#wonders i have discovered (evan musings)

[bladeshowers]

How do Amara and Evan feel about being the WoL in their respective WoL verses?

Evan kind of stumbled into things and never really saw them going the way they did. She's in it purely for the adventure of everything and to witness cool things other people don't get to. Sometimes the entire thing feels a little constraining to her, but she's happy to be able to help people, even if doesn't necessarily view it as something she has to do. idk. She honestly kind of views it in a very spiderman like way. She has a lot of power and a lot of responsibility to the world. Sometimes it sucks since she can't save everyone and she has to live with that. She just kind of accepts the good and the bad of it all. Evan's come to terms with the fact that she'll never get a break and will probably die doing something heroic and there isn't much she can do to change things. She's content to go with the flow and see where life takes her. Being WoL is very fulfilling to her, even if she does feel like she's more emotionally distanced from those she cares about because of it. Evan doesn't like to burden people, and even though she's more in touch with herself emotionally, she does tend to keep that stuff to herself. And, to be fair, no one really asks her either.

Amara tends to lean towards being resentful of the responsibility and all the weight that gets put on her shoulders. Originally, she definitely leaned into it because it was getting her money, fame, fortune. Then shit started going downhill with the faux assassination and just kept getting worse between people she cared for dying and the increasing amount of pressure on her shoulders. Now, she's kind of stuck in this weird place where she's a hero but doesn't really want it because she doesn't feel like everyone deserves to be saved. Endwalker kind of forced her to accept the intellectual fallacies of her logic given how high the stakes were. (Which is her fascination with Amon explained to some degree.) It also solidified that she - as warrior of light - is bordering on primal status and that could be tipped over the edge one day. Which is frightening to her. She likes the idea of that power but… Ultimately she's stuck walking in Azem's shadow and she hates it. She always wanted to be free of one cast from her family or brother and now she's stuck with a bigger and more grandiose one. Her hatred is offset by her fascination though.

[moonstruckme]

Would you be willing to do fem whimsical!reader x lily where reader thinks something is haunted and maybe tries to befriend the ghost? Idk id really be happy with anything i just love lily. thank you if you do write it!! If not that’s okay I hope you have a wonderful day!!

Thanks lovely, hope you have a wonderful day as well <3

Lily Evans x whimsical!reader ♡ 916 words

You recognize the sound of Lily’s footfalls thumping dully on the dusty floors, so you don’t jump when a figure sits down beside you. 

“Did you buy whiskey?” she asks. “You don’t even like whiskey.” 

“It’s not for me.” 

Your girlfriend hums, shuffling closer so her thigh is pressed against your knee where you have your legs crossed underneath you on the floor. In front of you is your candle, the flame flickering steadily, and your offering of the bottle of whiskey. Otherwise, the room is empty. “If you keep coming in here, eventually Michael’s going to figure it out and he’ll get a real lock put on the door.” 

Michael is your landlord, of whom Lily is constantly wary because his first course of action is always threatening to kick tenants out (though as far as you know, he’s never actually done it). 

“True,” you reply, “but don’t you think he’d appreciate it if I got the presence up here to quiet down? No one’s going to move in if it keeps making so much ruckus.” 

Shortly after the last tenants had moved out, you’d started hearing noises in the unit above yours. Sometimes it’s a light clicking, sometimes a louder thump like something’s fallen, but every time you’ve come up here to check there’s been no evidence of things having moved around. The natural conclusion is that there’s been some disturbance in the spirit world that’s resulted in a new presence squatting here, and you like to make friends with your neighbors. 

You know Lily’s a bit dubious of your theory, but your beliefs often differ from hers. She’s never made you feel like yours are any less valid. 

“Are you sure that making friends with the ghost won’t make it more inclined to make more noise?” she asks.

“Mm, maybe,” you muse, “but I’d like to think that if they like me well enough, they’ll listen if I ask them to keep it down. At least at night, you know?” 

Lily smiles, and the room warms in response. “Worth a try,” she agrees. “How long do you think you’re going to be tied up for? Dinner’s almost ready.” 

“Not much longer. As soon as the candle burns out I just have to look at the shapes in the wax, and then I can go.” 

“We’re going to have to clean up the wax stains before Michael discovers them too.” She leans over to kiss the side of your head, the soft curtain of her hair falling across your cheek, before sitting back on her heels and straightening up. “Alright, love, come down when you’re done.” 

You hum in response, listening to the comforting cadence of her footsteps as they leave. But then there’s another sound with them. A quiet clicking. 

You inhale softly as the flame of your candle flares slightly. “It’s here,” you breathe. “It’s listening.” Lily pauses in the doorway, and you clear your throat, trying to affect your voice to be calm and welcoming. “Hello? Can you communicate with us?” 

The clicking continues. You think—hope, maybe—that it might be growing louder, but it’s difficult to say. 

“Hello?” you try again. “We’re friendly, please don’t be afraid.” 

“Sweetheart, I’m not sure…” Lily takes a few steps toward you, a bemused furrow between her brows. “It sounds like it’s coming from in there.” 

She starts down the hall, and you follow hastily. She stops in front of a closed bedroom door, reaching behind her to grasp your arm cautiously. The clicking does sound louder here. Lily edges the door open quietly, peering inside. 

“Oh.” The syllable stretches as if drawn out from between her lips, sweet as spun sugar. “Hello, darling.” 

She lets the door fall the rest of the way open, dropping into a crouch. Over her, you can see the empty, dusty room, rich light from the setting sun streaming through the windows, and a small white kitten frozen warily in the middle of the floor. 

Lily reaches out a hand, making quiet little tsking noises with her tongue, but you step right over her and gather the kitten in your arms. 

“Hi there,” you say. “Is it you making ruckus every night?” 

Lily laughs, rising from her crouch to come stand by your shoulder. “It’s so unfair how they always come to you,” she complains fondly. “I try so hard.” 

You hum noncommittally. It’s true, animals love you. You scratch the side of the kitten’s face, smiling when it purrs. 

Your girlfriend smiles too. “So you’re our ghost, hm?” she coos, stroking a knuckle down its belly. “Sorry you didn’t get your chance to make friends with someone from the afterlife, sweetheart.” 

“That’s alright,” you say. “This may be more rewarding anyway. You can’t pet ghosts.” 

Lily laughs, dropping a kiss on your shoulder. “No, I don’t suppose you can. Do you want to keep her?” 

You look at her in surprise. “Could we? Michael wouldn’t be happy.” 

She shrugs a shoulder, green eyes flashing with challenge. “There are some things worth incurring Michael’s wrath, I think.” 

You beam, looking down at the nearly sleeping kitten cradled in your arm. “Yeah.” 

“Come on.” Lily gives you a nudge, starting back out into the hall. “Our dinner’s going to burn, and I think we have tuna in the pantry to hold this one over until we can get to the store.”

“Can we name her Ghost?” you ask, following her out. 

“Oh, I don’t think we have a choice.” 

[lulublack90]

Prompt 14 - Choice

@jegulus-microfic March 14 Word count 665

Previous part First part

Because Regulus didn’t need to get Remus back to the pack, they found themselves with a bit of free time. When Evan offered for them to all stay over if they wanted, his father was apparently in Romania for Voldemort and wouldn’t be back until the following week. 

Sirius and Remus instantly took him up on his offer and barely had time to say goodnight before Sirius dragged Remus out of Evan’s room and into another bedroom.

Barty looked at the clock on Evan’s bedside table. 

“They do realise it’s only 5 o’clock, right?” 

“I don’t think they care.” Evan snorted. 

“Well, anyway, what information have you found?” Regulus asked, trying to steer the conversation away from what his brother might be doing in the other room. James saw the grimace that had crossed his face and slipped out to put a silencing charm on their room as yet again Sirius and Remus had neglected to do so. 

He slipped back into Evan’s room just as Evan began telling them what he’d discovered. 

“Thank you,” Regulus whispered as he slid his hand into James’s and squeezed gently. 

“So, I managed to find out where he went after he left Hogwarts. He went to work at Borgin and Burkes for a while and then completely disappeared.”

“We went to the shop and basically charmed the pants off old Borgin, and he told us something very interesting.” Barty took over.

“Riddle, by all accounts, was a model employee, but then one of their best customers was found dead, and her house elf blamed for it.” Regulus had opened his mouth to complain about that. House elves couldn’t hurt their masters. It was all a part of the magic’s that bound them. “Yes, Regulus, we are well aware of House elf rules. However, the same day she was supposed to have died, Riddle handed in his notice and disappeared off the face of the earth.”

“But, Burgin also mentioned to us just as we were leaving that a priceless artefact went missing at the same time, and he’s convinced that Riddle took it.” Barty was grinning now. 

“Go on, what was it.” James had taken a step towards Barty, completely drawn in by their story.

“Helga Hufflepuffs cup.” Barty finished with absolute glee in his eyes. “Slytherins locket and Hufflepuffs cup. I bet MV turned it into a Horcrux as well, and my money’s on he found something of Ravenclaws and Gryffindors as well.” 

“What’s MV?” Regulus asked, his brow furrowed as he tried to work it out. 

“Mouldy Voldy!” Barty cackled at them. The other boys ignored Barty and looked at each other excitedly. They might not know where the Horcruxs were, but at least now they had an idea of what they were looking for. 

“I wonder what Ravenclaw has,” James said. “Gryffindor had a sword, but Ravenclaws a mystery to me.” The others turned to James.

“A sword?” Regulus said. “How do you know that? Do you know where it is?” 

“He has it in his portrait. But it’s been lost for hundreds of years.” 

“Just like Slytherin’s portrait in our Common room. Perhaps Ravenclaw has whatever her thing is in the Ravenclaw Common room.” Regulus mused aloud. He had a choice to make now of which artefact they tracked down next. Pandora came floating in, coming to stand beside her brother. 

“Ravenclaw had a diadem.” She said breezily.

“Pandora, how is it that you always turn up just when we need you?” Evan sighed. It had been the same story his entire life.

“Because I’m smarter than you.” She smiled as she kissed his cheek. 

“Do you know where it is?” Regulus asked, watching Pandora closely. 

“You might want to talk to the grey lady.”

“The ghost?” James looked confused. “Why would we want to talk to her?”

“Because,” Pandora rolled her eyes as she stretched out her hand and patted Barty’s hair flat. “She’s Helena Ravenclaw. Rowen Ravenclaw daughter.” Four mouths dropped open.  

Next part

[dragonydreams]

Plus One - Buck/Tommy

Title: Plus One Fandom: 9-1-1 Rating: Teen Audience And Up Pairings/Characters: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Tommy Kinard, Athena Grant/Bobby Nash Additional Tags: Fluff, family dinner, coming out, Tommy Kinard POV Summary: Buck is Tommy's plus one for dinner at the Grant-Nash home. Timeline: 7x05 Word Count: 2,366 Disclaimer: I claim no ownership over these characters. I am merely borrowing them from Reamworks, Brad Falchuk Teley-Vision, Ryan Murphy Television, and 20th Television. Betas: Thank you to @medieshanachie for looking this over for me.

Read on AO3

Tommy was enjoying sitting out in the sun with Evan's hand caught between both of his when his phone rang. He still couldn't believe that he'd just agreed to be Evan's date to his sister's wedding. 

Reluctantly, he removed his hand from on top of Evan's to pull his phone from his pocket. He didn't recognize the phone number, but in his line of work he couldn't ignore a call from an unknown number.

"I should probably take this," he said as he accepted the call. "Hello?"

"Hi Tommy, it's Bobby Nash."

"Captain Nash, hi," Tommy said, meeting Evan's wide eyes across the table. Evan gave his hand a little squeeze. "What can I do for you, Sir?"

"Athena and I would like you to come to dinner at our house," Bobby said. "We barely got to talk after the rescue and we would like to thank you properly."

"I was just doing my job," Tommy deflected, not that he wasn't grateful for the invitation.

"We both know that you weren't sanctioned to come get us. You put your career on the line to come save us and I cannot say how grateful we are that you did. The least we can do is make you a home cooked meal."

"I do miss your cooking," Tommy admitted. 

"I don't know if you're seeing anyone, but feel free to bring them along, too," Bobby offered. 

Tommy turned his hand over so he could squeeze Evan's. "I have started seeing someone who I think I'd like to bring." 

Across the table, Evan pointed at his chest and mouthed, 'Me?' Tommy just nodded. 

"We look forward to meeting them," Bobby said. "How's Wednesday night?" 

"Wednesday works for me," Tommy agreed. 

"I'll text you the address. I look forward to catching up," Bobby said.

"I'll see you then," Tommy said. He met Evan's eyes. "Want to go to dinner at Captain Nash's with me on Wednesday as my date?"

"You want me to be your date for dinner with Bobby and Athena?" 

"Only if you're comfortable with it," Tommy said. 

"Well, he'd find out about us at the wedding anyway," Evan said. "I like the idea of him knowing about us before then. He is kinda like my work dad."

"That's not really a thing," Tommy said, laughing. "I can't believe how much of a family the 118 became after I left."

"Hey, if you hadn't left when you did, I could have ended up at some other station." Evan shuddered dramatically. 

Tommy blinked. "I hadn't done that math. You were my replacement."

"You left some pretty big shoes to fill," Evan said. 

"How old are you?" Tommy hesitantly asked.

"I'm thirty-four," Evan said. 

"Ten years, that's not so bad," Tommy mused aloud.

"If it makes you feel any better, you wouldn't be the first person I've dated who is older than me. Abby was like twenty years older than me when we dated," Evan admitted.

"You have some kind of May/December fetish I should be aware of?" Tommy teased.

"N-No," Evan spluttered. "This would only be the second time I dated someone that much older than me. Not that you're old."

"I'm kidding, Evan," Tommy said. He wondered why Evan seemed to melt a bit every time he said his name. He'd need to remember to ask him about that sometime.

"Besides, there is something to being with someone more mature, with more life experience," Evan said. 

"Especially for someone who only recently discovered they were into men?" Tommy asked, knowingly. 

"Yeah," Evan said, blushing. 

"So, what kind of wine should I bring to this dinner?" Tommy asked, looking to get back onto safer ground. 

"Red wine for Athena and something non-alcoholic for Bobby," Evan said. 

"He's sober?" Tommy asked. "That certainly explains some things."

"Not my story to tell, but yeah," Evan confirmed. 

"Do you have a wine preference?" Tommy asked. "I'm not all that picky," Evan said. "Depends on my mood."

"Good to know," Tommy said. He took another sip of his terrible coffee and grimaced. "First, I'm going to get some real coffee and then head to the liquor store. Care to join me?"

"Y-you want me to come with you?" Evan asked, clearly surprised.

"Unless you have plans?"

"No, my day is wide open," Evan said, enthusiastically.

"Great, let's go," Tommy said. 

~~*~~

On Wednesday night, Tommy picked Evan up before heading to the Grant-Nash home. He and Evan had a mild debate about who should drive since Evan had been to the house many times before, but Tommy wanted to woo Evan. Even if just a little.

Evan was fidgeting beside him as Tommy rang the doorbell.

"Second thoughts?" he asked, resting a hand on Evan's back.

Evan steeled himself and grinned at Tommy. "Not a one."

The door swung open to reveal both Bobby and Athena. Tommy registered their surprise at seeing Evan with him. 

"Buck, what are you doing here?" Bobby asked.

"I-I'm Tommy's plus one," he stuttered. 

Athena recovered first and stepped around Bobby to loop her arm through Tommy's and pull him inside. "That is wonderful news. I can't wait to hear all about how you two got together."

As they walked down a short flight of stairs, Tommy saw Bobby pull Evan into a hug and say so softly that Tommy almost couldn't hear it, "I'm happy for you."

"This is for you," Tommy said, presenting the wine to Athena. "Thank you for having us over."

"It is our pleasure," she said. "Especially if we are getting the good gossip before everyone else." She winked at him. 

"I'm afraid Eddie's got you beat, in that case," Evan said as he and Bobby joined them. "He interrupted our first date."

"He does know how to keep a secret," Bobby said. "We didn't even know about Christopher for the first few weeks he was with us."

"He seems like a really great kid," Tommy said. 

"You've met him?" Bobby asked in surprise. "I thought you were dating Buck."

"I am, but Eddie and I have become pretty good friends since the rescue, too," Tommy said. "I've hung out at his place to watch some fights."

"Tommy flew the two of them to Vegas to see some fight a couple of weeks ago," Buck added. 

"You sure you're not dating both of them?" Athena teased.

"Oh, I'm sure; Eddie turned me down when I asked for a date, but said he wanted to be friends."

"Wait, you asked Eddie on a date?" Evan asked in surprise.

"I'm going to finish getting dinner on the table. Is that for tonight?" Bobby asked, gesturing to the bottle of sparkling grape juice in Evan's hand. He held it out for Bobby without looking away from Tommy.

"I'll go pour the wine," Athena said. "We're going to need it."

"Did you kiss him, too?" Evan demanded in a whisper, pulling Tommy to the far side of the room.

"No, it was nothing like that," Tommy insisted. "On the way back from Vegas I asked if I could take him on a proper date and Eddie said that he was flattered, but he had a girlfriend. I was surprised because it was the first time he'd mentioned her. Apparently she'd been babysitting Christopher while we were at the fight."

"So, am I like some kind of consolation prize?" Evan asked, his voice trembling.

"No, never," Tommy grasped Evan's face between both his hands. "I didn't know you were an option until I went to your loft that night. And when you said you'd been trying to get my attention all week, I realized I didn't want to miss my chance with you."

He kissed Evan then, a soft chaste kiss since they were at someone else's home, but one filled with promise.

Evan looked dazed when he released him, just like after their first kiss. Tommy could get used to putting that look on Evan's face.

"Now let's go eat, I'm starving," Tommy said, grabbing Evan's hand and pulling him towards the kitchen. "It smells amazing in here."

"You guys all good?" Athena asked, an eyebrow raised. 

"Yeah, we're good," Evan said, that dopey grin still on his face. 

"Coming through," Bobby said, setting a large pan of lasagna on the trivets on the table. 

Tommy inhaled deeply and sighed. "Man, I've missed your cooking."

"I'll have to make you my version sometime," Evan said as they sat. "Bobby's been teaching me how to cook and I think I've got this one down. Eddie and Christopher like it, at least."

"You've got the chili down, too," Bobby said, "now that you know the secret ingredient."

"He told you his secret chili ingredient?" Athena asked, surprised. "I don't even know that."

Evan puffed out his chest. "Yeah, I pestered it out of him."

Bobby served up the lasagna, the salad and garlic bread were passed around, and they took a few minutes to enjoy their food. 

"Bobby, you have only become a better chef," Tommy said. "When you retire you should definitely open a restaurant."

Bobby laughed. "Thank you for the compliment but that is a stress I do not want in my retirement. I much prefer cooking for family and friends."

"The 118 really has become a family, hasn't it?" Tommy asked, somewhat wistfully. "I could see it heading that way when I left, but leaving was still the right move for me."

"You seem happy at Harbor," Bobby said. "I've heard nothing but good things from your captain."

"You checkin' up on me?" Tommy teased.

"Maybe from time to time," Bobby admitted. "You seem much freer since your time with us."

Tommy glanced over at Evan. "Yeah, when I started at the 217 I did it as an out gay man. Took a page from Wilson's book and made it clear that this is who I am."

"I heard a lot of stories about Captain Gerard when I started and I know what it was like under him. I understand why you didn't feel comfortable sharing that part of yourself. I'm glad you found somewhere that you can be you." 

"Yeah, Gerard was the worst kind of old school misogynist. I saw what Han and Wilson went through when they started and out of self preservation didn't want to have him treat me that way, too. It was cowardly, but it was also survival."

Evan reached over to squeeze his thigh under the table. 

"I am a bit surprised you didn't tell us about yourself, Buck," Athena said. "You seem to share so much of yourself with everyone that this caught us a bit by surprise."

"I, um, didn't actually know this about myself until recently," Evan said, meeting Tommy's eyes. "Not until Tommy kissed me."

Tommy wondered about the look that Bobby and Athena shared and wondered if it had something to do with Evan and Eddie's close friendship. 

"Well, I'm -"

"We're," Athena cut in. 

"We're very happy for you both. I'm guessing you haven't told the rest of the team, aside from Eddie?"

"That's correct," Evan said. "Well, Maddie knows. Pretty sure she hasn't told Chimney since he isn't bouncing off the walls trying to keep a secret."

"But they'll know soon, as I'll be Evan's date for his sister's wedding," Tommy finished.

"Now that's one way to come out," Athena said. "You sure you want to do that with your parents there?"

"I'm done trying to get their approval. We're never going to be close. If they can't accept that I'm dating a man now, that's on them."

Tommy could sense that there was a lot of bad blood there, but now was not the time to ask. He wondered if this had anything to do with why everyone called him Buck instead of by his name and wondered if he should be doing that too. But Evan hadn't asked him not to call him Evan; in fact, he seemed to like it. Tommy made a note to ask about that later.

"That's very mature of you," Athena said.

"What can I say, the therapy actually helped."

The rest of dinner progressed easily. Athena told them about Bobby's heroics after the ship capsized and his acrobatics to get Norman safely lowered to the new floor of the ship. 

Tommy told them about some of his more interesting rescues, although saving Bobby and Athena would be at the top of his list for a long time when telling stories to other people. 

When it was time to go, Bobby packaged up the leftover lasagna for Tommy to take home with him. Evan pouted about Tommy getting all of the leftovers and Bobby promised to make it at the station soon.

On the drive back to Evan's loft, Tommy asked, "Would you prefer if I call you Buck?" Evan turned to look at him. "It's just, I know that's what everyone else calls you."

"I-I kinda like that you don't call me what everyone else does," Evan admitted. "I always felt like such a disappointment as Evan, so when there were two other Evans in my class at the fire academy I started having people call me Buck. Buck wasn't a screw up. Buck was a firefighter who could get things done. Someone who mattered."

"You matter regardless of what you're called," Tommy interrupted. 

Evan reached out to clasp Tommy's hand on the gearshift. "I know that. And when you call me Evan, I don't feel like a disappointment. I guess you could say that you're a first step to reclaiming that name."

"So should I expect everyone else to start calling you Evan now, too?" Tommy asked.

"Unlikely," Evan said, laughing. "You've seen how no one calls Chimney 'Howie' anymore. Except for Maddie, sometimes."

"If at any point you change your mind, I will call you by whatever name you want," Tommy assured him. 

"Thank you, that means a lot," Evan answered. 

As they approached Evan's apartment building, he asked, "Do you want to come up for a nightcap?"

Tommy glanced over to see the hopeful expression on Evan's face and even though he knew he shouldn't, he found himself saying, "I'd love to."

[dangertoozmanykids101]

TOOZ WRITING PROMPT

Hey y'all! I have got a great fun prompt for you today! You won't believe what I found! Now although the inspiration involves a video of a super young Chris Evans, any muse can be the star or participate. ALWAYS! Because this is just a prompt - you're the writer in control. And I'm dying to find out what y'all come up with. So guess what—

TOOZ FOUND A TREASURE !

How the hell are there still things out there I haven't discovered yet? Am I the only one who didn't know anything about this?

Baby Chris Evans is teaching us about Biodiversity: Wild About Life.

He's just a baby! So young. What a little cutie!

Now for...TOOZ WRITING PROMPT

One or more of our collective muses has been asked to make a documentary or Public Service Announcement (PSA) to raise the public's awareness about something specific, something important, something ridiculous, something imminent, dangerous, horrifying, apocalyptic, something that turns out to be catastrophic, something that fizzles out, something that is a hoax or conspiracy, something that is manipulative or oppressive.

Did I mention something ridiculous?

We SHOULD each challenge ourselves to write a serious one AND a ridiculous one - a ridiculous cause that is taken seriously, of course. You know, a crack fic: a story that the author must've been on crack to come up with such a wack-a-doodle idea.

Disclaimer: I AM NOT SUGGESTING NOR CONDONING THAT WE ALL SMOKE CRACK IN ORDER TO WRITE A CRACK FIC! It's just a figure of speech. Come on, right?

Ohh but imagine if our muse fucks up the PSA or documentary up so badly that they have to go back on the air and recant parts of it, if not the entire thing.

This could be the most important thing they've ever done or said. The most important fight they ever signed up for. Their message may successfully change the world, or save it.

Or maybe their message was completely wrong - the wrong information, the wrong choice, the wrong course of action. (Is it too late to save the world, or stop the broadcast?)

This could be absolutely humiliating. It could ruin their reputation and any future career. And say goodbye to any chance of a proper private life after this. Will the public even notice or care?

The Captain America PSAs always send me into giggles. I've included several video links. I'm dying to find out what y'all think? If any of you have more ideas. SQUEAL!

Of course, it's adorable when Sam & Bucky argue about Steve's PSAs.

And I couldn't help adding a couple more.

These aren't all necessarily PSAs, but just inspiration. Especially seeing our muses with kids makes me swoon.

I ran out of room for videos.

If anyone has more inspirational videos, please share!

This post got accidentally posted almost two weeks ago before I had actually finished it. Yikes! I wonder how often I did that?

@nildespirandum @ladyoftheteaandblood @caffiend-queen @redfoxwritesstuff @nonsensicalobsessions @talklokitome @latent-thoughts @alexakeyloveloki @devikafernando @deceitfuldevout @so-easy-to-love-me @wolfsmom1 @gigglingtiggerv2 @americasass81 @acidcasualties @muddyorbs @lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @spectre-posts

[gryffindormischief]

Prompt: Lily Evans is allergic to almost everything - pollen, dairy, chocolates, dust, gluten and so on. Most people wonder how she survives. But only one allergy really bothers her, her boyfriend allergy. She can't get close to having any boyfriends or she feels sick. Luckily James is there to help her with that last one. ;)

A/N: what will I do with these shorty drabbles??? Idk if I want to start another collection on FF and Ao3 or what....

---

Lily Evans: charms expert, quidditch enthusiast, and expert allergy collector. That’s what her epitaph will read. Because those seem destined to be her three most obvious and memorable traits. Her red hair might have worked it’s way in if she hadn’t turned 16 and suddenly turned into one giant rash.

The Evans family has a history of hay fever style reactions. It’s expected, usual.

When Lily turned 9 and discovered looking at a peanut made her tongue swell up, it was a disappointment but doable.

She turned 16 and her love affair with dairy products was brought to an untimely end involving a whirlwind romance with the toilet at Frannie's - Cokeworth's favorite summertime ice cream parlor. That was the summer of her marathon of new allergies.

Including, apparently, her ability to flirt. She'd never been 'a flirt' per se, but she could throw around hair tosses and sly winks when needed. Which ironically, was not that often, but then suddenly, January of 6th year, Lily completely lost her wits around the opposite sex.

Not universally. Sirius could still be spotted slinking away, tail between his legs after a particularly vivacious tete-a-tete. Lily and Remus often spent their hours patrolling with bellies sore from laughter.

But throw Lily in a room with James Potter, and suddenly her retorts dry on her tongue. Her quirked brows stutter and droop into a confused scowl. Her cheeky grins become simple half grimaces.

And then James makes a face like a confused puppy and her stomach does somersaults. It's all quite discomfiting and reminiscent of her most recent foray into the loo at Frannie's.

"Alright, Evans?"

Lily clears her throat, though her irritation still has her response sounding more like a growl than anything. "Sure."

James ruffles his hair and drops his gaze. "So, Remus told me about the whole milk thing."

Lily's mind blanks for a moment at that, as she wonders whether Remus really hates her enough to tell tales about her summer of vomit. But she manages to recover somewhat. "Er - yeah?"

Somewhat.

"Well. I know how much you love shortbread."

Something of that usual spark reignites. "Do you?"

A blush rises on his cheeks as he shoves his glasses up in an uncharacteristically clumsy gesture. "You know Evans, normally when someone does something kind the recipient doesn't tease mercilessly."

"We've never been usual, eh Potter?" Lily asks with a grin.

A grin that quickly falters when James brings a tin from behind his back. "Well I figured they can be done without dairy so I tried it out - might be shit but it's worth a try right?"

She breathes out his name in a whisper.

He's still orating, outlining the process of trial and error over Christmas hols with his mother, when she just can't take it anymore, allergies to James Potter be damned.

It doesn't take much to close the distance between them, to press her lips to his, to feel his flailing hand wrap around her waist while the other begins to release the biscuit tin.

Lily pulls away with a gasp. "Oh no you don't - can't toss that about. Precious cargo."

"Biscuits get me a snog," James muses, as Lily grabs the tin in both hands, "That's a rewards system I can get behind."

"Well I haven't tried them yet - wait around and see what happens if they aren't shit."

[misscrawfords]

17+32, Catherine and Henry (Northanger Abbey)?

War AU + Pregnancy fic

My anon, are you sure about this? Because this sounds hella angsty and if Catherine and Henry are anything, it's not angsty!

So I'm really sorry for completely ruining your desire for angst here.

*

Catherine goes to war in maternity leave.

Not literally, don't be ridiculous. She's an English teacher; what on earth would she be doing in a war zone? (She did once fancy herself a member of the Royal Navy but she had been 13 and mostly inspired by going on a high ropes adventure course on a school trip. The craze had not lasted.)

No, maternity leave is simultaneously boring and freeing. Since she started as a teacher, she's never had so much free time to just think. Henry's around some of the time, of course, but he has sermons to write and parishoners to see and tedious parish council meetings to chair. She flits in with cups of tea (waddles, really, at this point) and homemade cake that they at least pretend to like. (Sometimes she likes to give in to all the stereotypes of a vicar's wife. It makes her feel strangely cosy.) But when she isn't baking, she's at war.

At war on the internet. With the dog over her feet and a cup of tea at her side.

It started with a fun looking show on Netflix. Henry pointed it out to her one evening. "It's aimed at people who really loved Twilight when they were teengers and now lead depressingly generic lives in suburbia. People like you," he added pointedly.

Catherine narrowed her eyes and didn't let on that she'd already seen the trailer. "You're going to make fun of it."

"I mean... yes... obviously, but also, I really want to see whether the Dawn Angel gets together with the..." He squinted at the summary on his phone. "Immortal Night Demon or with her high school ex-boyfriend turned firefighter, Jordan. Golly, tough choice there, right? It's going to be compelling drama - breathtaking fight scenes, symbolic dark and light imagery, the epic highs and lows of high school football. You name it!"

They binged the whole thing in two days. Henry's next sermon, on the possibility of redemption even for demons and the devil himself, had been written in a fever dream by both of them at 2am after staying up far too late on Saturday arguing over the fate of the Night Demon and other related topics.

Old Mrs. Evans was heard to mutter sourly to her daughter Carys after the service, "That'll put the cat among the pigeons, that will alright. Too much Milton, not enough St Paul!"

"I always find Milton very inspiring!" Catherine replied bravely and loyally, as she helped them to a cup of tea in the church hall. She smiled at Carys, whom she'd taught Paradise Lost to at A Level a couple of years earlier. "St Paul too, of course," she added quickly, quailing under the mother's righteous glare. "Very inspiring."

But without marking or admin or driving to and from the high school in the large town half an hour away and without groups of teenagers to debate books with on a daily basis, Catherine found herself bored.

So she booted up her tumblr once again, abandoned since teaching had taken over her life and spending time with her wonderful, clever, funny, loving husband had seemed more interesting than scrolling aimlessly through social media, and discovered to her gleeful pleasure that fandom had not changed much and neither had she.

Or so she thought. Nowadays, she realises, everyone is moralising. The prevailing view seems to be that teenage girls in fandom aren't capable of distinguishing fact from fiction, that if they want a fictional heroine to rule hell with a sexy demon overlord at her side that must mean that that's what they want in real life. That the only moral thing to do here would be to marry the nice but boring guy who's been there for ever.

Catherine is an English teacher married to a vicar. If anyone knows anything about morality and fiction, it's her. This is all sounding very similar to the male critical outrage at women's novels in the 18th century. It seems nothing ever changes except that this time it's girls doing it to each other. Catherine writes several essays explaining all of this. She gets sent death threats and called an abuse apologist.

"It's so strange," she muses to Henry, as they eat homemade Thai curry in front of the aga.

"What is?" he replies. (She's told him everything, of course.) "The teenagers sending you anonymous death threats on tumblr? Because-"

"Nah, that's just standard for tumblr. I mean, it's so strange that anyone would want Griselda to be with Jordan. He's just so... normal and not in a good way. Just always going on about football and how great he was in high school. He really peaked then and he's a firefighter so that should make him brave but he never seems to actually do any fire fighting. He just talks about it as if we're meant to be impressed. We all know a Jordan and nobody wants to date him."

She'd know. Her first boyfriend had been a Jordan. They'd dated for five minutes. (Literally five minutes. Then she'd realised she'd been asked out and not to do a singing gig. Thorpy had been so subtle as to be unintelligible. Then she'd run for the hills, more disappointed in not having her vocal talents finally recognised than in being asked out by such a bore.)

"So a literal demon is a better bet?" Henry asks. "Just asking for clarification. Next year's Halloween costume depend on it."

"He's interesting and sexy and treats Griselda as an equal. What more do you want?"

"Well, speaking as a clergyman...." Henry begins with faux pomposity as he often does, his expression very fond.

She leaves him to do the washing up and lecture the dog. (She frequently hears him discussing doctrinal issues with the dog from the other room. It's adorable. She wonders if he'll be like this with the baby too. She can't wait.)

Back in her study, she boots the kitten off her chair and settles down for a long evening of defending a fictional relationship against antis, maybe reading a bit of a 52 chapter fanfiction where the Night Demon owns a tattoo parlour in New York City, and continuing to work a little on her new scheme of work for Year 9 when she eventually returns to work. It has the working title of "Sexy villains through history and why we should stan them".

She might need to edit that before she pitches it to her Head of Department.

There's a wonderful smell coming from downstairs: Henry is spontaneously baking apple cake. If she glances behind her computer monitor to the window, the graveyard looms dark and comforting in the autumn night, illuminated just by one of the outside lights on the old church. On a cushion by the bookcase, the kitten is lightly snoring and twitches in her sleep. She feels the baby shift slightly within her.

Shipping wars and the thrill of being so engaged in a fandom once more might fill a current space in her life, but goodness, she knows the difference between fact and fiction! Why would she want anything other than what she already has? Life is good.

[madamewriterofwrongs]

I have thought long and hard about your AU prompt post and o have decided on bringing your attention to a Buddie singer/songwriter AU. Professional or amateur, either way, my soul aches for one of them seducing the other with a love song they made themselves. I am w e a k.

I knew instantly this was the scene I wanted to write and I finally got there.

Prompt Me with AUs

A Syncopated Heart

Read on Ao3

This was a bad idea. He knew it was a bad idea the moment it entered his head – as most of his ideas were what Hen called “too impulsive to be recorded, do you want to get me fired?” – and yet, nodded as the sound guy gave him his thumbs up. It was time.

If he were being truly honest with himself, ‘time’ was six months ago, when he met a prodigy of a guitar player wanting to join his band. ‘Time’ was five months and twenty-nine days ago, when he got over his own ego and realized that the player (though he had less experience in the industry) could definitely teach him a thing or two when it came to professionalism and technique.

‘Time’ was four months ago, when a bad case of bronchitis made him question whether he’d be able to sing again, but his new friend refused to look at him any differently. ‘Time’ was three months ago, when he was introduced to his best friend’s son by saving him from a falling stage light. ‘Time’ was two months ago when his producer told him to write a song to launch his solo career and he was faced with the notion that he would be leaving his family forever.

‘Time’ was one month ago, when he called Bobby in the middle of the night, frantic because he couldn’t figure out why the words wouldn’t come. ‘Time’ was two weeks ago, when he finally understood what his old mentor had meant when he told him that “he was missing what was right in front of him.”

‘Time’ was ten days ago, when his best friend informed him that he would be leaving to sign with another company who could “give him what he needed”. ‘Time’ was six days ago, when he’d shown up on his friend’s doorstep and begged him to stay – but when it came time to explain why, the words still wouldn’t come.

‘Time’ was two days ago, when his producer had asked him to perform his new song at a live event downtown, despite having never heard it. ‘Time’ was twelve hours ago when he’d finally put pen to paper and written the lyrics to his song – their song.

‘Time’ was sixty minutes ago, when his sister had asked him, for the fortieth time, if he was certain about his next move. ‘Time’ was two minutes ago, when he’d checked his phone, only to find no news of whether his best friend would be attending his final performance.

‘Time’ was now: stepping on stage with the first guitar he’d bought with his own money, and a head full of words he hoped would explain everything he wanted to convey.

The lights were blinding and the scent of stale beer and old plywood filled his nostrils. It was soothing, really, to be surrounding by such familiar sensations as he stepped over the precipice into the unknown. He had dreamed of the floodlights and the mumbling crowd since he was a kid (or, that was the story they’d told the media, but he hadn’t picked up a guitar until he was in his twenties). Regardless of when he’d discovered his love for music, it was the one thing that gave him joy. Whenever everything else was falling apart in his life, he could still feel a song sitting on his chest, just above his heart. Sometimes, it would press down until he could barely breathe; until the notes had to be played or he might burst. Other times, a melody would follow him for days. He liked to imagine a nymph floating beside him, whispering tunes into his ear to keep him occupied. His own personal muse.

He wouldn’t be using her tonight. He had new inspiration. And he prayed it would be enough.

“Hey folks.” He coughed into the microphone and it filled the bar. His eyes began to adjust under the lights, slowly revealing the audience to him, like a wave of vaguely buzzed shapes.

“You all know me as ‘Buck’ but that’s not my real name (obviously).” The few chuckles floating into the air were drowned out by the thrumming in his ears as he searched the crowd for a familiar face. “My real name is Evan Buckley. Before we get started on our set, I wanted to sing a song for you all. It’s a new song, actually, one I wrote for…” He cleared his throat when the words pressed harder on his chest, refusing to come. “For someone special.” Even over the pounding of his heart, he heard the murmurs of curious audience members, knowing the rumour mill was about to start spinning. But none of that mattered. No. The only thing that mattered was the next three minutes.

“Here it goes.”

The first strum of his guitar released the stranglehold the words had on his heart. In his more poetic moments, he would swear he could hear his muse gasp with the beauty – not of the notes, but of his intentions. In truth, he could barely feel his hands. They played of their own volition, moved to dance in a pattern they’d never rehearsed.

When the melody pulled so strongly, he would normally close his eyes and surrender to the music. But tonight, there was more than just him and the music. Though his eyes burned under the penetrating lights, he kept them trained on the audience, constantly looking for the one face he needed to see.

He had always been very proud of his singing voice. Though it was relatively untrained, he had done countless hours of research to make sure it was as healthy as possible. Like his guitar, he wanted to keep his voice finely tuned – lest someone realize he was merely a replaceable vessel on the ocean that was the music industry. After his bronchitis, he had taken extra care of his body but tonight, he felt like a novice – stepping out on stage for the first time, hoping his voice didn’t crack under the pressure.

The lyrics were the thing he held most precious in this journey. They contained within them the story of his life – of what he hoped would be his future. It was the story of a boy who wanted to make something of himself. He wanted to be somebody so badly that he made it to adulthood without becoming anything in particular. Then he picked up a guitar and thought he’d met the love of his life. All that changed when he met someone who made every note fall flat. And now, the boy finally realized how much he needs that person. How much he wants that person. How much he loves that person.

“And I will follow you around I will wander through the darkness that we made There is nothing else I want except for…”

His eyes connected with Eddie’s and the shock of it stole the words from his mouth. His fingers fell away from the strings and for the first time since they’d met: there was silence between them. Eddie’s expression was warm and open, looking up at Buck with what he hoped was affection and not pity.

In his mind, he watched Eddie shake his head and walk out the door at the back of the bar, the two of them never to meet again. Instead, he stood motionless as the man he’d wondered about for so many months slowly strode through the crowd towards him. With each step, he replaced the resignation in his mind with caution, and then, disbelief, and finally optimism of the smallest margin. Some peripheral awareness not centered on Eddie realized that people had noticed when the lead singer had stopped and all eyes were split between Buck and Eddie.

And why shouldn’t they be? Here were two souls meeting on the center of the stage, Buck making space for Eddie beside him without really thinking about it.

“You came.” He found himself speaking irreverently; a prayer he never believed would be answered.

“You invited me.” Eddie’s smile could still melt his heart in an instant.

“Yeah but… you came.”

“Of course I did.” As if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“I thought you’d be in Texas by now.”

“I cancelled my flight.”

Buck blinked, if only to reassure himself that he was, in fact, still awake and staring at the man who was going to leave but chose to stay.

“Why?”

“Buck, you know why.”

Did he? Did he know the truth between them? Or was he simply hearing the words he hadn’t realized he needed to hear until it was too late?

“The song.” He swallowed his pride. “Did you like it?”

“You haven’t finished it yet.”

“I’m not sure if I should give it a happy ending.”

When Eddie grasped his fingers, slowly threading them together with his own, Buck couldn’t contain the gasp that left his mouth. The look in the other man’s eyes was so gentle and open, his heart burst with the hope he hadn’t let himself feel.

“It should definitely have a happy ending.”

When their lips met, a symphony erupted in his mind – he would realize later that it was, in fact, the noise of the crowd cheering them on. The kiss was electric, crowded, and utterly perfect. Buck’s smile nearly broke them apart but he kept their lips connected until he was overpowered with the need to breathe.

His lips tingled with the memory of their kiss and his chest hurt for the guitar pressed between their bodies, but his mind had dissolved into simply memorizing every sensation from the moment their eyes had met until their lips had parted. Over and over. There was nothing else.

“You came.”

Eddie’s chuckle was added to the lexicon of sounds Buck would replay for the rest of his life.

“I think we already established that.”

There was only one thing that Eddie still had to know. One thing that could sway the end of their song. “I’m staying.”

But then his partner smiled and whispered: “Me too.”

And Buck kissed him again with more fervor than before, the desperation and excitement of the moment finally seeping in. Eddie was staying here, with him, and their song would finally get a happy ending.

And if his manager forgave him for ending the concert early because their kiss went viral, all the better.

What mattered most was Buck, Eddie, and the music.

[ladynox]

Tagged by @jocarthage Rules: You can usually tell a lot about a person by the music they listen to! Put your music library on shuffle and list the first 10 songs, then tag 10 people. Before going forward, I feel like should explain that I don't keep playlists in the traditional sense. As in they're created with a theme or mind or for a specific mood or anything. I basically use 1 Spotify playlist that use to store any and all songs that I discover and/or remember. So it's just a mess of genres in both Spanish and English. 1. Death of a Bachelor by Panic! At The Disco. Legit not surprised this is the first one. XD I listen to this song so much Spotify's algorithm knows to play it first. I love swing and jazz, and everything Urie was doing with this song. I'm cutting my mind off Feels like my heart is going to burst Alone at a table for two and I just wanna be served And when you think of me am I the best you've ever had? Share one more drink with me, smile even though you're sad 2. Ahora Quien (Salsa version) by Marc Anthony. Translates to Now Who? I love Marc Anthony. He's just amazing. His lyrics are always gorgeous and my translation will do it no justice. (salsa version because I love to dance). And who will write you poems and letters? And who will tell you his fears and faults? Who will let you sleep on your back? And then in the silence you will tell him you love him You'll have his breathe on your face He will lose his way in your gaze and will Forget life loving you Now who? 3. Can't Feel My Face by the Weekend. Just a good jam. Music for me first and foremost is for walking or cleaning or working out. So I like stuff I can move too. And I know she'll be the death of me At least we'll both be numb And she'll always get the best of me The worst is yet to come But at least we'll both be beautiful and stay forever young This I know, yeah, this I know 4. The Wanderer by Dion. What can I say? I love Fallout 4. Oh well I'm the type of guy who will never settle down Where pretty girls are well, you know that I'm around I kiss 'em and I love 'em 'cause to me they're all the same I hug 'em and I squeeze 'em they don't even know my name They call me the wanderer, yeah the wanderer I roam around around around 5. I Don't Feel Like Dancin' by the Scissor Sisters. There's an RNM fic in here somewhere, I just know it. Cities come and cities go just like the old empires When all you do is change your clothes and call that versatile You got so many colors make a blind man so confused Then why can't I keep up when you're the only thing I lose? So I'll just pretend that I know which way to bend And I'm gonna tell the whole world that you're mine Just please understand when I see you clapping your hands If you stick around I'm sure that you'll be fine 6. Pressure by Muse. This is one of those songs that I'd add to an Alex Manes playlist if I made playlists about characters. More for the vibe--the need to break free and the bubbling anger. I'm feeling the pressure I can't break out No one can hear me scream and shout Get out of my face, out of my mind I see your corruption I'm not blind I'll carry the burden and take the strain And when I am done I will make you pay 7. El Beso Que No Le Di by Romeo Santos & Kiko Rodriguez. Guess I can't have a music list without some sentimientios hahaha I cannot emphasizes enough just how dramatic this song is. Max Evans weeps to this song in the desert. My poor English translation does not do it justice. I saw her at the altar With a diadem on her head That boyfriend took what I most loved Her image I can't erase I want to remove from my memory Her white dress, the ring on her finger And the kiss I didn't give her. 8. Ungodly Hour by Chloe x Halle. This is one of my miluca songs and now I am in my feelings. You know that I, I heard it all before You're hesitant, but you could give me more I know you like to play those silly games When you're done, call my name When you decide you like yourself (Holler at me) When you decide you need someone (Call up on me) When

you don't have to think about it Love me at the ungodly hour 9. Volvi a Nacer by Carlos Vives. The lyrics to this one aren't that amazing. I just really like the music, the way he sings the song. I want to marry you Stand by your side Be blessed by your love That's why I want to leave my past I want you to come with me Die in your arms, sweet love. 10. Moon River by Frank Ocean. First of all, thank fuck it wasn't another Spanish song. I regret adding lyrics. XD Anyway, I came across this one while watching Doom Patrol. What a wonderful, poignant song. Two drifters off to see the world It's such a crazy world you'll see (What I see, who I become) What I see, who I become We're all chasin' after our end Chasin' after our ends Life's just around the bend, my friend Moon river and me Not gonna bother tagging anyone. If you wanna do it, consider yourself tagged.

[flowercrown-bucky]

As it turns out, adventuring in the unconscious mind is super overrated.

Fandom: 1970s!Loki Multi-Chapter

Pairing: Loki x ConArtist!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, drinking, drug references, later death, later smut, crime, loki and the reader are con artists..... It’s a wild one y’all, hold onto yo’ seats.

.Word Count: Lots

Chapter One

[Something Wicked This Way Comes - Chapter Two] 

Loki’s life on Asgard has become vapid; uninspiring. He’s got the taste for a little danger. During a trip to earth, he finds just the danger he’s looking for.A partner in crime - in every imaginable sense. 

TAGLIST IS OPEN - EITHER COMMENT OR MESSAGE ME TO BE ADDED

Authors’ Note: When I worked as a barmaid, one of my regulars used to refer to his wife as ‘the current Mrs Osbourne’. I always found it funny, and I snuck it in here. 

Also - I’m back. Yipee ki yay, motherfuckers.

You sighed as you slept, your breasts heaving.

Loki turned on his side, running the tips of his fingers over your sleeping form. The thin blanket was draped over you, not quite thick enough to warm your body properly. 

You snored, he had noticed, and it had bothered him to no end. As a god, he was required to sleep very rarely, which left him with nothing better to do than watch you sleep, most nights. 

He was intrigued by your mind. He had never entered a consciousness quite like it before, and the mystery of the contents of the shelves was really getting on his nerves. 

Over the last few weeks, you’d been sharing a room. After all, it was cheaper to have one room and it helped maintain the pretence that you were husband and wife. 

Your system had become fairly streamlined, and you’d become quite comfortable in each others’ presence. Comfortable enough that you’d allow yourself to sleep and trust him to protect you. After all, your body was a powerful asset, and you would rather it remained in one piece. 

Your unconscious mind, however, was a mystery to Loki, and one he fully intended to investigate.  

He lifted his hand, pressing his palm against your forehead. 

He looked around, briefly. It was just ask dark as it had been before, and just as empty. 

He wandered towards the boxes again. What was stored in your mind that you so badly needed to hide? You had revealed everything to him, but not your mind, and that was a concept he really, really struggled with. 

He grabbed at the handle, jiggling it with all his might, but it just wouldn’t budge. 

“I told you never to invade my mind again.” Your voice startled him. 

“You’re supposed to be asleep.” He spun on his heel. 

“And you are most certainly not supposed to be inside my head, so don’t try to take the highroad with me.” You crossed your arms over your chest. 

“You’re supposed to be asleep.” He repeated, blinking incredulously. “Your body is asleep. How are you not asleep?” 

“Are you broken, or owt?” You raised your eyebrow. “As you can well see, I am not asleep. I find it suits me to be at least partially conscious at all times.” 

“Are you always like this when you’re sleeping?” He eyed you suspiciously, sat once again on your chair. 

During the short period of time he’d known you, he had discovered that you found it very difficult to sit normally on a chair, opting instead for a number of uncomfortable looking and seemingly anatomically impossible positions. It didn’t annoy him as much as had he thought it might. 

He’s asked you about it once. You’d mentioned that you had been briefly employed as a contortionist, but brushed it off whenever he tried to bring it up again. 

In all honesty, it wasn’t the most unusual thing he’d discovered about you. 

“Yup.” You popped the P. “And yes, that does mean that your midnight perving has not gone unnoticed.”  

“I do not perv.” He rested one hand on his hip. “I observe interesting things. You happen to be interesting.” 

“Well, I sure am glad you think so.” You drawled. “Anyhoo, to what do I owe the pleasure of this little midnight intrusion?” 

“Are you ever going to tell me what’s in all these boxes?” He asked. 

“Trust me when I say it is best for our combined safety that I don’t.” You looked straight into his eyes. 

He hated when you did that. The only other person who had ever looked at him was that same intensity was his mother, and she had always had quite the knack for staring straight into his soul. 

Come to think of it, so did you. 

--

Loki shifted his weight in his seat, lifting his eyes from the steadily melting ice cube in his glass to the pair of breasts that had shifted into his line of vision. They were, he noted, rather nice breasts. Large. 

“Another drink?” A smooth voice asked him. 

“I’m good, thanks.” He cleared his throat, waving a hand dismissively. With the assistance of his unique talents, the evening’s entertainment had left him rather better off than he had started. 

To any other man, being dealt a three and a seven as a holecard in your first game of the evening would surely be a bad sign of things to come. But Loki was no ordinary man, and with a little coercion his cards had switched themselves out for a slightly better hand. Never a pair of aces, he had learned, it was much too suspicious. No, two queens were his weapon of choice. 

But, as ever, if you made a man a fool, he would call you a thief. 

It did not bother him much. He had been called far worse.  

He’d had no need for your quick hands and easy deceptions in his games this evening - but you were, as ever, his charming accomplice, as pretty and poisonous as you had been the night you met him. 

His eyes were on you now, and it seemed he was not alone in that. You were slightly distracted as you crossed the room, one hand running through your hair to smooth it. Your carefully outlined eyes had smudged ever so slightly, the seam that ran down your left thigh slightly askew. 

“Really? Him?” He raised one eyebrow as you approached him. 

“What? He’s cute.” You stuck your tongue out at him. “Sort of.” 

“Finished?” He continued, holding out his hand. 

“He certainly is.” You raised your eyebrows. 

He pulled a face at you, and you couldn’t help but grin as you reached your hand into the side of your dress. This was, he had learned, your favourite place to keep things you would rather not lose - with the exception of your handgun, of course, which was always either tucked into the band around your thigh or under your pillow whilst you slept. 

He wondered briefly how the hell you explained why you were in immediate possession of a 10mm glock to the gentlemen you entertained. 

A tiny metal key dangled between two of your delicately manicured nails, and he grinned. 

“You beauty.” He held his hand out further to you, palm up, waiting for you to drop it. 

“Tut, tut, tut. Where are your manners?” You teased. “Ask nicely.” 

He stared at you incredulously. You tilted your head to one side, sticking your tongue out mockingly. 

“You are an infernal nuisance, you know that?” He rolled his eyes, leaning over to grab your arm and tug you into his body. You were supposed to be his wife, after all. 

“So I’ve heard. Now, if you want the candy..” You leaned into him, your voice dropping to a low whisper. “You’ve got to play ball.” 

Your lips brushed gently against his jawbone, nothing more than a chaste brush of skin, leaving a burning trail in their wake.

“You know I could just kill you, right?” He turned to you, trailing his fingers down your arm, his own wrapping round your waist. 

“But what would be the fun in that?” You blinked up at him innocently. 

If he wasn’t a god, if he didn’t have so much self restraint, he would be melting in your hands. 

He felt a gentle jingle and a slight weight in his back pocket, followed by the gentle brush of your fingers across his bum. 

“You know, a good fuck would really sort out your little attitude problem.” He mused, turning to face you.

“Nice try, Loki.” You rolled your eyes. “And, well..” You waved your hand at the gentleman who had been your evening’s companion. 

“I said good.” He chuckled. “And by the way, darling, you really shouldn’t touch a man’s bum like that. Leads the mind to all sorts of unsavoury places.”

“You fucking wish.” A very un-ladylike snort left your mouth. 

“Mr Evans, who exactly might this delightful young thing be?” A sharp voice drew his attention. 

He glanced up at the man standing before him. He was tall, taller than Loki, and thin, like one of of those gross spiders you find in the corner of your room. His face was drawn, likely from stress, he concluded . A smattering of whiskers littered his chin, a slightly unpleasant twinkle in his lined eyes. 

“My lovely lady wife.” He smiled, pulling you in to him a little tighter. “The current Mrs Evans.” 

You turned your head in such a way that only he could see you rolling your eyes.

“Charmed, I’m sure.” You turned back to face your company, a tight lipped smile curving on your face. “I do apologise, but I don’t believe we’ve met before.” 

“It does seem that way, so please, allow me to introduce myself.” He took your hand in his own, lifting it to his face and pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. “Roger Slater. I was just chatting to your husband here, not twenty minutes ago.” 

Something about the way he was looking at you made Loki grab you a little tighter. 

“Would you like anything to drink?” He asked, trying to remain as polite as he was able. “I’m sure my fine lady can assist me in carrying a few extra drinks.”

“An old fashioned, if you would, my good man.” His tone was level, his voice smooth. It made Loki cringe. 

--

You weren’t paying that much attention to either of the men before you, so the cold fingers wrapped around your wrist and the sudden sharp tug came as something of a surprise to you. So much so, that you almost yelped in surprise. 

Almost. 

You gathered your composure as you steadied yourself, smoothing down your skirt with your free hand. You weren’t sure whether it was the heels that left you so unsteady on your feet, or the negroni you had necked not five minutes earlier. 

Loki’s hand was tight on your wrist as he led you towards the bar, his fingers icy cold on your delicate skin. Why was he always so cold? 

“Be careful with that one.” He whispered. You opened your mouth to question him, but he had turned towards the barmaid to request more drinks. 

The man to your left wasn’t particularly subtle in his eyeing of you, his gaze sweeping your form a few times before shooting you a smile that made your skin crawl. 

You shuddered, grabbing at the tumbler closest to you and taking a long sip, scowling to yourself. 

“Why the long face?” A look of bemusement settled on Loki’s face - something you found really, really infuriating. 

“These men.” You grumbled. “They talk to me, treat me like a pretty little piece of fucking meat.” 

“That’s because to them, you are.” He shrugged dismissively. “Nothing more, nothing less.” 

Rage bubbled in the pit of your stomach, like an angry, venomous torrent climbing up your throat. 

“Why, you little - hmmmph.” His hand slapping over your mouth cut you short. 

“Might I remind you, darling, that you have a role to play. You shall get your vengeance.” He shot you a sickeningly sweet grin. “But for now, you shall have to grin and bear it, little pork chop.” 

You seethed from behind his hand. 

“Hold your tongue, that’s all I ask of you.” His gaze was earnest. “Will you do that for me?” 

You cast your gaze downwards, nodding your head. 

“Good girl.” He lifted his hand from your mouth, smiling as you glowered at him. He kissed your hand delicately, a brush of his lips across the skin of your knuckles, before holding out his arm for you to take. 

The unusual gentleman, Mr Slater, was, as promised, still waiting for you across the room. He thanked you politely as you handed him his drink, his eyes alight as if something were terribly funny. 

“Are you sure we have never met before, Mrs Evans?” His left eye quirked as he spoke. “You seem awfully familiar, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.” 

“I guess I just have one of those faces.” You shrugged. 

“Yes, quite.” He said. “Anyway, I have a rather unusual talent that I often whip out at parties, just as a little amusement. I feel it might interest you both, if you care to indulge my silliness.” 

You glanced across at Loki, trying to hide the bewilderment from your face. He shrugged, holding out his hands. 

“Be my guest.” He agreed. 

You weren’t really sure what exactly you were expecting. Perhaps table top magic - rabbits out of a hat, coins from behind ears, that type of thing. Hell, maybe he was truly psychotic and was going to stab the both of you. 

“It’s more of a childish parlour trick, really, but I have this unusual gift for reading people. Amateur psychology, really, but rather fun.” He grinned at your confused faces. “I pick up little things about people, tells me all sort of things. Secret affairs, family feuds, the yearnings of the heart. Even people’s greatest fears.” 

He paused for a moment, lifting his glass to his mouth. He gathered the drips from the corner of his mouth with his thumb, looking back up at you both. 

You thought it was a real shame he considered ‘people reading’ his greatest talent and not this overblown display of amateur dramatics. 

“The pair of you are a little more enigmatic than most, but I think I could give it a crack, if you would allow me.” 

You nodded breathlessly as he leaned towards you, your heart hammering in your chest. It was almost as if every nerve, every cell in your body was imploring you, screaming at you to not let this strange man come any closer to you. 

Your feet felt frozen in place as his hand landed on your shoulder, his calloused palms like sandpaper against the soft skin of your shoulder. A breath stilled in your throat as his head dipped so his lips were level with your ear. 

“You will kill again, and it terrifies you.” He whispered. “It keeps you up at night, doesn’t it? Not the knowledge of what you have done, but what you know you will do. It’s okay, darling, your secret is safe with me.” 

You exhaled sharply as he drew away from you, a nervous laugh bubbling out of your chest. 

Who the fuck was this guy? 

He winked at you as he took another sip of his drink. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Loki’s line of vision flitting back and forth between the two of you, looking for any hint of what he had said to you, what could’ve so clearly, so deeply, unsettled you. 

You sure as hell weren’t going to tell him. 

Your eyes followed him closely as he leaned in towards Loki. Unlike you, he maintained his cool composure, but you were fairly certain you saw something adjacent to fear flicker in the back of his eyes. 

Over time, you’d become an accomplished lip-reader, but this time, you felt for sure that your skill had failed you. You’d not picked up much, a single word, in fact, but you knew it couldn’t be correct. 

That word, that single word, that allegedly had Loki witless with fear? 

Himself. 

His hand shot out, grabbing at your wrist, his nails biting into your skin. 

“I’m really sorry, but my wife and I have to leave.” He spat out, turning on his heel, and striding away as quickly as his legs would carry him, almost dragging you behind him. 

You had never seen him this flustered before. His cheeks were ever so slightly pink, his eyes glittering with anger, his chest rapidly expanding with every shallow breath. His grip on your wrist was like a vice, and you felt for certain that there would be the imprints of his long fingers marring your skin in the morning. 

Just before you reached the door, you were fairly certain you heard the unusual man call ‘See you around!’ cheerfully over your shoulder. 

“Who the hell was that?” You asked as you hurried down the corridor towards the lift. 

“I don’t know.” He replied. “Like he said, we were talking when you were out. He owns a jewellery company. I didn’t think he’d try and get to us. Messing with you in that way, saying he thinks he knows you to try and catch you offguard.. It’s certainly unusual behaviour.” 

“See, there’s the thing. I don’t think he was fucking with me there. He looked familiar to me, too. I think I’ve met him before.” You pressed a finger to your lip thoughtfully. “And don’t even try taking the ‘weak mortal’ path here. You were bricking it too, I could see it in your face.” 

“You see what I want you to see, little mortal, and nothing more.” He shot you a glare. “Now, about that key.” 

“We all see only what we’re shown, Loki.” You mused. “Even you.” 

He glanced at you curiously as you stepped into the lift. 

The encounter with Mr Slater had left Loki deeply unsettled. From the very off, something about the strangle man had made him uncomfortable. 

He couldn’t even really work out why. He was, if anything, perfectly pleasant. Polite, courteous, well spoken. There was, at least on the surface level, nothing wrong with him. 

But yet, he was nothing short of creepy. His smile wouldn’t have been any more unsettling if black widow spiders had crawled out from in between his pale lips. 

When he revealed he had a little talent, Loki wouldn’t have been entirely shocked if he’d told him it involved punting kittens. 

He himself was not exactly known for his strict adherence to anything resembling a moral code, and if anything, it made it all the more unusual that he had affected Loki so badly. 

If there is anyone in this world - or any other - to be truly afraid of, it’s not the man who stalks your nightmares - it’s who stalks his. 

He was, however, desperate to know what Roger had said to you. You would, of course, never tell him. Under other circumstances, he would consider subduing you in some way, but from the few encounters with your subconscious mind he had already had, he got the feeling that even then you wouldn’t willingly surrender the information. 

It was this he was pondering as he rifled through the irritatingly mundane belongings of one Mr J Grey. When you’d selected him as your victim of the evening, you’d done so on the premise that he was wearing a very expensive suit, but as Loki was discovering, he hadn’t quite been the man you were looking for. Aside from half a gram of cocaine in a small ziploc bag - honestly, who kept their narcotics in their bedside table? - and a scuffed Barclaycard with yet more cocaine tightly pressed into the embossed numbers - expired, he had checked - he had found nothing of any real value. Knock-off watches, fake leather wallets, poorly made suits, but nothing particularly valuable. 

“Your judgement is poor, darling.” He said. “This man is both immensely dull and revoltingly messy.” 

“I am sorry to disappoint, but we Terrans are a rather messy species.” You remarked. “In fact, we are renowned for it.” 

He laughed, staring down at his gloved hands. You were quite right - humans truly were a messy, invasive little species. A cosmic nuisance, of sorts. He was just glad that, for the most part, they stuck to their own planet. The furthest they had actually gotten was their own bloody moon, so they weren’t exactly regarded as a threat to other species. 

“I think we should cut our losses and get out of here before he gets back.” You sighed, running your hand through your hair. 

Loki muttered his agreement, rising from where he knelt on the floor. He was happy to dispose of the clammy plastic that clung to his hands, flinging them into his pocket dimension as he headed towards the door. 

He dropped a throw-away comment as he walked down the corridor, eliciting a true, from-the-chest belly laugh from you. Quick as ever, you responded within a heart beat, but Loki found himself missing your witticism, distracted by a sudden thought. 

Since when did humans start referring to themselves as Terrans?

-- 

TAGLIST:  @chxrryycola @the-middle-oldest-child​ @possessedjoker​ @amour-delicate @marvelouslyme96​

[bladeshowers]

WHICH TRAGIC CHARACTER FROM ANCIENT GREEK LITERATURE ARE YOU?

antigone

you are antigone, from the theban plays by sophocles. you are bold, unwavering in your morals and your passion, an unstoppable force of nature. but when you go head-to-head with an immovable object, your ideals can lead you to self-destruction. you are stubbornly resilient and fearless to a fault, and aren't afraid to stand alone in the face of death. antigone, in your quest for justice, don't forget: you are allowed to step back, to love life a little, to be young once more before soldiering on to the very very end. be selfish in your fierceness, just once.

[gomezisabellas]

girl meets world - season 4

highly inspired by @quincywillows & @insertsighs, here is my take on what i would’ve wanted season four of girl meets world to look like. hope you enjoy it! under the cut is the episode descriptions in case it’s hard for you to read in the picture!

Girl Meets Change - After a summer of celebrating that she’s staying in New York, Riley wonders if her mother made the right choice. Meanwhile, Cory has to teach a new class, without Riley or her friends.

Girl Meets Viral - Maya posts her art online, expecting no one to see it but it goes viral overnight. All of the sudden she has to deal with her newfound and quick fame, and her friends asking her questions she doesn’t want to answer.

Girl Meets Investigation - Maya wonders why Josh has been distant. She enlists her friends to help her crack the case and spy on him at NYU. Her friends agree but they all think she knows the answer already.

Girl Meets Boiling Point - The gang all get locked in a room after school. After some time, things they had been hiding from each other come out. Cory and Topanga hit a rough patch.

Girl Meets Intervention - Maya, Lucas, Isadora, Zay, and Farkle all realize that Riley hasn’t been herself lately. They try to sit her down and talk to her. And what they learn makes them angry, but mostly sad for their friend.

Girl Meets Gardening - Maya and Isadora start a garden at school, only to find out that someone is stealing all of the food they grow. Riley ponders the meaning of growth.

Girl Meets Auditions - Abigail Adams is putting on their annual school musical. The musical is Dear Evan Hansen. Throughout the audition process, the gang learns about the characters and themselves. Auggie and Ava try to write a musical.

Girl Meets the Musical - With the musical in full swing, cast members are forced to confront the truths that lie within their roles and themselves. Maya is resentful that she didn’t get a principal role. A shocking revelation is made on opening night.

Girl Meets Therapy - After intense lobbying from her friends, Riley agrees to ask her parents about seeing a therapist. Farkle and Isadora decide to break up.

Girl Meets Religion - Farkle decides to start going to a Jewish congregation, but has to face his conflicting feelings with religion and science. Riley and Isadora have a discussion which makes Riley question her faith.

Girl Meets Broken - Maya’s dad attempts to make amends again but Maya comes to a realization. Cory and Topanga tell Riley they’ve been going to marriage counseling.

Girl Meets Masks - Riley’s friends come to find out that she never followed through on her promise. They sit her down once again but it doesn’t go according to plan. Maya distances herself from the group.

Girl Meets Science Fair - Farkle and Isadora are going up against each other at the science fair, vying for first place. But perhaps they work better as a team. Maya gets artist’s block and tries to cure it. She realizes it’s because she’s distanced herself from her muse.

Girl Meets Advice - Riley writes into the school paper’s advice column. Maya realizes who wrote the entry and enlists the help of the other four to help Riley. Topanga sleeps on the couch.

Girl Meets Art - Maya finally reveals all the questions asked about her viral artwork but leaves out some key details. Riley puts her detective clothes on and realizes what the art truly meant. Farkle and Isadora get back together.

Girl Meets Rocky - Riley and Farkle each dare each other to face their fears: heights and confrontation. Farkle tries to rock climb while Riley tries to confront Lucas. Meanwhile, Cory and Topanga have a serious and difficult discussion.

Girl Meets Confusion - After Maya’s revelation and Riley’s new realization, they’re both confused on where their friendship stands. To make matters worse, Josh is visiting. Cory and Topanga deal with the fallout of their discussion.

Girl Meets Family - Isadora finds out that her father has a secret second family. As her entire world crumbles, she tries to hide everything and be the stoic person everyone thinks she is. Maya gets a message from her father’s “new family.”

Girl Meets Zay’s Choice - Zay has the chance to move back to Texas and must decide if he wants to go back or stay in New York. Meanwhile, there’s some tension between Riley and Lucas, when Lucas finds something.

Girl Meets Babies - Everyone is paired up with someone to take care of a fake baby. Chaos ensues over different parenting styles. Farkle’s parents announce that they’re expecting.

Girl Meets Healing - Riley finally allows herself to tell her parents how she truly feels and reach out for help, Cory and Topanga decide to put their differences aside and come together to help Riley.

Girl Meets Standardized Testing - The gang studies for the state tests and PSATs. Isadora comes to realize that tests don’t mean anything, making her question why she based her worth off them for so long. Maya discovers she has a learning disability.

Girl Meets Passover - Farkle decides to host a Seder and invites all of his friends to it. The night brings up questions of oppression and slavery, prompting everyone to rethink their own privilege.

Girl Meets Finals - As the gang studies for finals, they realize that junior year is just next year. And then senior year. And then college. The anxiety slips in as they all ponder what to do with their futures and what happens when their futures don’t align with one another.

Girl Meets The End - After a graduation party, the gang reminisces on their time together. They all wonder about their futures. Riley goes back to being herself a bit more. They all make a promise that is unbreakable.

[the-gory-gardner]

Nightingale Part Six: Fragile

(The Meeting Between A Huntsman And A Lonesome Kitten One Year Ago)

Jonathan West x Katrina Evans

It took a moment for Jonathan to remember his suggestion to his little guest when he woke up. He probably only remembered so quickly because sometime during the night he’d turned over and draped his hand over the pillow divider. Waking up a bit more he realized that not only had he crossed the barrier he’d also rested his hand on Katrina’s head. 

He assumed she hadn’t woken up when he’d placed it there otherwise she would have woken up. Still as he processed his actions he couldn’t help but note how soft curls were. Then again everything about Katrina seemed soft and fragile. Jonathan moved his hand away carefully and he slowly scooted to the edge of the bed. He knew if it hadn’t been for the pillows he’d more than likely ended up holding the girl and he couldn’t imagine how startled that would have made her had she’d woken up first. 

Jonathan shook his head from the thoughts deciding he should get ready for the day. Though it’s not like there was much to do, still he grabbed some clothes from his drawers before heading to the bathroom. He took a quick shower that only lasted ten minutes before getting out and drying off. Once he was dressed he left the bathroom and headed back to his room just to peek in on Katrina. The small girl was still asleep and curled up in the blankets. Though at some point in the last ten minutes she’d taken one of the pillows from the barrier and pulled it to her chest. 

After watching her for a few more minutes, just to see if she’d wake up, Jonathan closed the door and headed off to the kitchen. He wouldn’t have much to do today except for some work on his blog. For now he could get started on breakfast since his stomach had began growing in the shower. As he looks inside his fridge debating what to cook again he thinks of how small Katrina is, how light, thin and just fragile she is. 

He decides that since she seemed better the night before that a big breakfast wouldn’t hurt. If it did he’d make her something else. So he pulls out eggs, hash browns, sausage links, bacon and a box of waffles. He’s not sure if Katrina can eat it all but hopefully she’ll eat what she can and that would be good enough for him. With all of the ingredients out he starts cooking deciding to make scrambled instead of fried, he cooks the sausage in the same pan as the bacon and throws the hash browns into the oven. 

Jonathan had just thrown two waffles into the toaster when Katrina comes off yawning and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Morning”. Jonathan greets still a bit nervous at interacting with someone especially when he remembers the softness of her hair. “Good morning, are you making breakfast”? Katrina asked looking at the food he’d began to plate with only the waffles left to cook now. “Yeah I hope you don’t mind a big breakfast”. Jonathan answered before turning away from her slightly as the toaster dinging and the waffles popped out. 

“Not at all I usually don’t eat breakfast”. She’d admitted. It was true usually her parents rarely made breakfast and when they did it was never good. She could have eaten breakfast at school but usually she goes right to the music room to play for a bit until it times to get to class. “You should most important meal of the day and all”. Jonathan replies only half serious. He knows he skipped out on his share of breakfasts when he was young, mostly to avoid his dad if he was up that early and only if he didn’t think his mom might be in trouble. 

After a minute or two Jonathan finishes plating only needing to add the waffles now before setting the plates down. This time they sit at the kitchen counter to eat which already has a couple rather comfy stools set up. “Wow your a really good cook”. Katrina finds herself saying with a bit of chewed waffle in her mouth. The sight makes Jonathan snort loudly before thanking her. He’d learned some cooking from his mother but not a lot due to a usual lack of food since his dad spent the majority of their money on beer and gambling. 

“Really though I wish I could cook like this”. Katrina remarked. She’d loved to be able to make meals similar to when she was little before all her sisters had moved out. Before her parents had decided that they were done raising children even though one remained under their roof. She wondered if they were home yet, had they realized she was gone, realized she had come down from her room attempting to bond before being brushed off because they were busy with work. Had they realized that the house was painfully quiet without the light strumming of a violin filling it. 

“Katrina, Katrina”? She was startled at the sound of her name and looked up to see Jonathan looking at her with...concern? “Y-Yes”? She asked to let him know she’d heard him. “You zoned out a bit there you okay”? He questioned. “Yeah”. She said with a hesitate nod. “Just got a bit lost in my head is all”. She explained. “Okay if that’s all”. He stated like he didn’t fully believe but didn’t want to upset her. “But I said that maybe I could teach you a bit, probably not a lot but we have a few days until the roads clear up”. He told her. 

Katrina nodded with a strained smile. She was truly happy he offered to teach her to cook but there was an odd pang in her chest at the reminder that in a few days she’d be leaving. She shouldn’t miss the cabin or Jonathan she’d barely been here two days. But she couldn’t deny that two days here had felt warmer than almost two decades with her family. “Yeah I’d like that, might actually be tempted eat breakfast if I could make something half as decent as this”. She finally replied. 

“Oh trust me when you leave here your cooking will be more than decent”. Jonathan remarked. Katrina huffed a laugh before continuing eating. They don’t talk as they did the night before but the silence is comforting instead of awkward like it is with others. They find almost enjoyable and when they finish with their food Katrina insist on helping with the dishes. Jonathan tells her she doesn’t have to but she’s stubborn on the subject. 

Jonathan finds it a bit cute that the timid, shy and stuttering girl can be so stubborn. He wonders if she occasionally gets like this with others or if she’s just more relax here. He couldn’t imagine be relaxed so quickly after everything she’d went though. It made him feel slightly prideful that despite his lack of people skills he’d made her feel so safe so fast. 

After a few more minutes of his musings Jonathan and Katrina finish up the dishes before putting away what little leftovers there were. With that done they go to the living room with him telling Katrina she can chose something to watch. While she’s channel surfing he’d picked up his laptop debating if he wants to update his blog. When he finally opens it and logs in he sees that it’s still on the news website from yesterday. Still on the article on the ‘missing’ sex offender. 

Jonathan wonders if he should look at any updates. See if they’ve discovered the body, if there’s a chance police could be heading towards his cabin. If not if the back road is still covered in snow and too icy to travel than that means his truck has been found. If his truck hasn’t been found then the body might still be out there, stiff and covered in snow. He tells himself he shouldn’t worry that if the cops come he’ll tell the truth he attacked Katrina and Jonathan acted in self-defense. 

But even with the man’s obvious record the police would still ask for a statement and even though she’d be seen as a victim it would be hard for her. Jonathan can vaguely recall being questioned by the police while sitting numbly in the hospital numb and a bit doped up. He was seen as a victim from the start or at least as a scared boy but that didn’t mean it wasn’t hard having to explain what happened that night and thinking any moment he’d break. 

He looked up from his computer to look at Katrina. She was sitting in the center of the couch now with her knees pulled up to her chest while she watched an cartoon on the TV. She was so small and his clothes only further showed that fact with how much they dwarfed her. He could almost picture her sitting curled up and meek in a hard plastic chair in a cold police station with two stone faced officer asking she questions as she explained what was possibly the worst day of her life. 

She’d break Jonathan was certain of it. 

And that, that was something he didn’t want. But how could he stop her from breaking. He knew she was fragile and no matter how much better she felt when she left she’d be hysteric if she had to talk to anyone about what happened. That’s when the idea came to him, it was crazy and very stupid but he just had this complete desire to help the small girl curled up on his couch. With a quiet sigh Jonathan went to an updated news page looking for any mention of the dead man. 

What he saw was nothing more than a simple mugshot that just stated the man was wanted. With a small nod Jonathan set up notifications to alert him if there were any updates on the news. If not Jonathan would go out and he’d make sure that the man couldn’t bother Katrina again, even in death. With a plan forming in his head he sat his computer down and walked over to Katrina. He gave her a small smile as he took a seat next to her. 

He was going to keep her safe no matter what. 

[thestarkerisobvious]

The Sisters Guard Their Treasures

amazing art work by @von--gelmini​ aka @starker-stories​  

A snugglefic for @mrstarksbabyy​

With great thanks for the betaread by @mrstarksbaby​

You know who you are.

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

The Sisters Guard Their Treasures

Peter gathered his friend up in his arms and held him close.  Tucked the man’s head into his shoulder, ran his strong hands over Tony’s thin back, over his bony arms.  

The brief days of Tony looking young and muscular were over.  Sunlight was taking its toll.  His temples and his beard were silver again.  There were lines around his eyes and his mouth when he smiled.  Peter adored them, trying to make his friend smile as often as he could.  Tony was beautiful when he smiled.

But he wasn’t smiling, not that night.  He would only have the strength to feed and then return to the dark.  That night Tony looked grizzled.  Peter found that scratchy, white growth of beard covering his hollow cheeks in patches.  It was lovely to touch, felt amazing on his fingertips and in the crook of his neck, but it meant Tony was very tired.  June was almost here.  The darkness under the bed was calling.

Relaxing in Peter’s arms 

he bragged of the days when he could stand in direct sunlight, not even in the form of a lizard or a black duck, but in the form of a man.  “Three hours before noon I could forbear, and three hours after.  The Evening and the Morning were mine to command.  I was so strong…”  But not of his own merit, he admitted.  It was due to the superior spellcraft of one Lysander Post.

Lysander Post had convinced his sisters to let him learn the spell from their books.  He was the only one who could master it.  It required an hour-long incantation, delivered in the dead of night without the aid of candle or lantern.  Lysander Post succeeded because he had the incantation memorized.  It was his dream to be an actor. 

But the spell was only good for a year, and only if Lysander completed it on a midnight in June.  “And then he left,” Tony mused, with obvious regret in his voice.  “He departed for Vaudeville.  He never returned from that city.”  Tony’s voice was mournful.  Peter found himself overcome with jealousy for Lysander Post.

Their last night together.  Peter gave Tony feeding-kisses for hours, holding him and stroking his hair.  Finally he turned around in Tony’s arms, giving him the vein to feed from, trying not to be too miserable.  

It wasn’t easy  “I’ll never be able to sleep,” Peter complained bitterly, even as he insisted that tonight would be their last night.  “I won’t sleep for two months.  I want to find the spellbooks that keep you with me all summer…”

He moaned at the absurdity of it all.  The Post Homestead had once been a place full of books.  To this day there were empty rooms in the rambling house full of bookshelves built into the walls.  All emptied out by Evan Post, who wasn’t much of a reader.  Not that those books would have helped Peter now… those books would have been hidden.  Kept safe.  All the books of St. Cyprian.  The Book of the Student, Book of Athanásio,  The Burning of St. Cyprian.  Peter remembered all the titles Tony had told him, still looked for them helplessly on all his library trips.  He dreamed of someday discovering something in a used book store in New York city someday,  the Almanac of Tia Micaela or the Thesouro de Feiticeiro. 

He was probably going to spend his entire college career haunting used bookshops, he realized.

“I want to go back in time and find Evan Post and hit him with a hammer.  I want to kick in him in the kneecaps.  I wish I could make a seal of Evorá right under my bed.  Someday I will.  Someday I’ll find out how.  I’ll make seals of Evorá all around every inch of this house.  I’m going to make one great big huge one right in that sunny patch behind the kitchen.  But, damn you Evan Post. I guess all those books were burned up and thrown in the lake...

“Weren’t they?

“…Tony?”

Tony had suddenly become very still.  His eyes were closed.  Peter would have thought his friend was asleep.  But his friend ever slept. 

“Tony?”  Peter asked, honestly confused.  He put his hand on Tony’s bare chest and shook him a little.  He couldn’t tell if his friend was very weak or… something else.  Tony was holding very still.  He looked very different.

“Tony, answer me… aren’t the books that… aren’t those the books that were burned and drowned in the lake?  You told me Evan Post burned all the books and drowned them in the… no…!!”

Peter sat up suddenly on the bed, his eyes wide.  “You told me Evan Post burned all his father’s books but he wouldn’t have been able to burn his mother’s book because he would never have been able to touch them.  Tony!  Are those books still here?!”

Tony was silent, motionless.  His eyes were clenched, his jaw tense.

Peter felt his chest tighten although he didn’t know why.  Then, suddenly, he did know why.  He began kissing Tony on the mouth.  “Tony,” he said, his hands on both sides of Tony’s face.  “Tony, look at me.”

Tony opened his eyes, partially.  He looked steadily at Peter’s chin.

“Tony, you don’t… do you think I want these books because I want to control you?  I don’t.  You know that, don’t you?  I just want to know… I just want to find the spells that make you stronger.  The spells that would give you more power.  I would never hurt you…

“…no, wait…” Peter said, pulling away again, his head spinning.  “The Portuguese books wouldn’t… the German books were about controlling and the Portuguese books were about rewarding… you’re not worried that I’m going to hurt you…”

“As irmãs guardam seu tesouro,” Tony whispered, his eyes finally meeting Peter’s eyes.  He spoke like a man in a great deal of pain.  Peter caressed his face and looked into his eyes and tried to remember what little Portuguese Tony had taught him.

“As irmãs… the sisters.  And tesouro is the treasures.  The sisters, they didn’t want you to talk about their treasures, is that it?  Tony, if you talk about the books, will that hurt you?

“Then don’t say anything,” Peter said firmly.  “That’s a direct order.  Don’t tell me anything that will hurt you.  I never want to hurt you, Tony.”

He placed a long, passionate kiss in the center of Tony’s forehead.  “I love you,” he whispered.

Tony came to life in his arms, raising his mouth for a kiss and wrapping his arms around Peter’s back.  “My loving master-scholar,” he murmured, his body relaxing in Peter’s arms, kissing Peter’s mouth over and over again.  “My remarkable library-pilgrim.  My superhero.  My Peter.”

He rolled Peter onto his back and kissed him deeply.  Peter ran his hands from the small of Tony’s back up to his head and back again, until Tony caught one hand in his and brought it up to his mouth, kissing the palm before kissing Peter on the mouth again.  They kissed and held each other for a very long time.

Finally Tony pulled away, just enough to bring their foreheads together, caressing Peter’s face, letting him catch his breath.  He gave a long, sly look down Peter’s body, noting his awakening cock.  Peter had already come on his own that evening, letting Tony lap up the results with a moan.  But they both knew it could happen more than once in one night.

Tony moved his head enough to look into Peter’s face.  Peter found himself looking up, lovingly, into beautiful dark eyes.

“Should I make you my beloved?” Tony asked gently, with a small smile.

Although he could never say why, it took Peter’s breath away.  He nodded solemnly, only wondering afterward what he had just agreed too.

Tony sat up on one elbow, using one hand to stroke Peter’s face, stroking gentle fingertips along Peter’s cheek and his lips.  He seemed to be waiting for something.

After a few moments of silence, Peter took that hand and guided it down, slipping it under the waistband of his boxers.  He hissed at the feel of Tony’s strong, sure hand wrapping around his cock.

Tony smiled, as if a question had been answered, and kissed his way down Peter’s chest.

In the dreammeeting, coming into  Tony’s mouth had been a thing of beauty.  In real life, it was beauty beyond description.

                                                 * * *

“Never mind about the spell books,” he murmured into Tony’s chest afterward, as Tony held him close and rocked him like a baby.

“It doesn’t matter.  I couldn’t read them anyway. They don’t even teach Spanish at my school.  It takes me half an hour to translate anything from Latin.  I don’t think I could get anyone to teach me 17th century Portuguese.”

“I can teach you,” Tony crooned with a smile in his voice.  “I can teach you your numbers and your colors… all the Post children loved to sing with their tias and their avós.  ‘Doidas, doidas, doidas, andam as galinhas’” he began singing, until Peter kissed him silent.

“Oh please don’t sing the ‘Crazy Chicken’ song again!’ Peter said, laughing, trying to hold Tony’s mouth closed with one hand.  The last time Tony tried to teach him the “crazy chicken” song was when he was laying in Frankenstein’s laboratory with another Tony piercing a long needle to him over and over again.  The only words he had learned were “around” and “hole.”

Peter pulled away enough to place gentle fingertips on his lover’s lips.

“I don’t want to learn any Portuguese math skills or chicken songs,” he whispered, allowing his lover to mouth and suck on his fingertips as he spoke.

“I already know a lot of words.  Latin words and regular words.  And now I know a lot of Portuguese words.  I just need you to teach me three more,” Peter whispered, bringing their foreheads together.

“Just teach me how to say ‘I love you.’”  

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THE END

For information about the next book, Seventeen, please follow @witchwayisright​

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THE MASTER POST (not that one, the other one)

As always please direct questions, comments and constructive crit to @witchwayisright

[drvconiis]

         ──    *     𝑰 𝑻 ' 𝑺   𝑪 𝑹 𝑨 𝑪 𝑲 𝑯 𝑬 𝑨 𝑫   𝑯 𝑶 𝑼 𝑹 𝑺     .      and  i’ve  pretty  much  lost  everything  from  my  old  account  so  here  is  intro  one  out  of  two  because  i’m  a  sucker  for  references  .  as  well  as  a  couple  changes  and  details  about  my  son  but  without  further  ado  ,  roman  de  grimaldi  ‘erebody  .  let’s  get  this  shit  show  on  the  road  !

potential triggers : divorce , death , infidelity

          ▫     ◟     𝑹 𝑶 𝑴 𝑨 𝑵   𝑫 𝑬   𝑮 𝑹 𝑰 𝑴 𝑨 𝑳 𝑫 𝑰     ──     𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝑙𝑑𝑒𝑛 𝑏𝑜𝑦  

abstract .

ʻ   /   let  me  introduce  you  to  a  prized  member  of  our   lacrosse team & sailing team   ,   roman  ‘ rome ’  de  grimaldi .  this   cismale  scorpio   has  been  a  student  at  our  institution for   4  years  and  is  currently  a  22  year  old   senior .   through  the  halls ,   he  has   always  reminded  me  of   evan roderick  ,   but  there  is  always  more  than  meets  the  eye ,   like  the  fact  that  he  ruined  someone’s  marriage  and  his  father  paid  them  off  to  keep  them  quiet .  coral  cape  has  made  their  future  just  as  bright  as  their  smile ,   i  assure  you .  ʼ 

memoir .

     ❭      ──     rome  was  born  with  𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒅  𝒊𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆  ,  the  youngest  of  three  children  to  sensationalized  fairytale  couple  .  behind  closed  doors  ,  he  was  the  last  hope  for  the  broken  married  couple  ,  he  was  the  attempt  .  despite  the  messy  fights  and  heart  aching  words  ,  lucca  de  grimaldi  perceived  his  youngest  as  the  light  of  his  life  even  at  the  height  of  the  de  grimaldi  divorce  and  the  loss  of  custody  of  his  eldest  child  .  firenze  was  a  toxic  concoction  of  both  his  parents  but  roman  was  the  exact  copy  of  the  de  grimaldi  patriach  from  his  light  eyes  to  his  messy  blond  hair  even  to  his  cheeky  smile  that  seemed  to  work  in  his  favour  .

    ❭      ──     he  was  𝒕𝒐𝒐  𝒔𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒕  for  his  own  good  ,  while  his  brother  firenze  seemed  to  run  wild  amongst  the  halls  of  their  italian  estate  with  a  fierce  wildness  and  expensive  tutors  chasing  after  him  in  attempt  to  get  him  to  try  ;  rome  sat  on  his  father’s  lap  with  a  children’s  book  in  his  tiny  hand  and  smile  on  his  face  as  he  eased  at  the  sound  of  his  father  typing  .  even  at  a  young  age  ,  rome  and  lucca  were  practically  in  routine  with  one  another  as  the  youngest  de  grimaldi  would  enter  the  study  at  the  same  time  everyday  before  easing  himself  in  the  furthest  corner  until  all  the  school  work  the  tutors  gave  him  was  completed  and  in  a  need  pile  then  he  would  shine  𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒆𝒗𝒐𝒖𝒔  bright  eyes  at  his  father  until  he  found  himself  in  the  man’s  lap  .  most  of  the  time  he  had  a  book  but  there  were  rare  moment  ,  lucca  de  grimaldi  would  talk  about  the  new  research  the  company  was  looking  into  or  the  new  proposals  for  a  new  hospital  .  rome  fell  in  love  with  medicine  because  of  those  moments  .

   ❭      ──     lucca  de  grimaldi  cried  when  he  said  good  bye  to  his  youngest  son  at  the  tarmac  of  that  plane  that  would  ship  the  boy  all  the  way  to  switzerland  .  rome  at  the  ripe  age  of  six  seemed  to  understand  duty  better  than  most  kids  ,  he  didn’t  cry  or  cling  onto  his  father  or  brother  instead  he  only  seemed  to  smirk  and  promised  to  call  .  rome  had  always  been  the  perfect  elite  child  ,  he  had  refined  manners  and  seemed  to  speak  to  every  elder  in  perfect  politeness  and  never  caused  his  father  distress  but  he  had  a  𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒆  𝒐𝒇  𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒄𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒚  when  he  arrived  from  a  year  at  school  .  as  years  grew  the  personality  grew  ,  he  was  still  a  child  so  the  multitude  of  languages  he  was  expected  to  know  mixed  ,  there  was  a  lacklustre  about  him  as  he  grew  .  he  was  golden  but  not  in  the  same  innocence  he  used  to  be  .  he  was  merely  painted  gold  .

  ❭      ──     the  first  time  roman  de  grimaldi  really  screamed  was  at  the  sight  of  his  older  brother  falling  into  the  still  deep  waters  .  the  first  time  he  cries  himself  to  sleep  when  when  his  father  held  him  after  baring  him  with  the  news  his  brother  passed  .  the  first  time  he  stops  routine  is  to  sit  in  his  brother’s  bedroom  and  wonder  .  he  was  merely  ten  and  he  wonders  ,  he  seemed  to  have  that  never  ending  question  about  why  people  seemed  to  keep  leaving  him  but  he  never  asks  aloud  .  then  routine  continues  ,  and  each  year  as  he  grows  he  becomes  less  of  himself  and  more  of  a  facade  ,  a  mere  image  of  who  he  could  have  been  .  he  was  dubbed  the  heir  of  the  de  grimaldi  business  before  he  even  finished  elementary  school  ,  he  was  a  part  of  the  future  of  science  and  he  barely  even  hit  puberty  yet  .  there  were  expectations  ,  plans  and  rules  to  follow  .  rome  discovered  he  𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒆𝒅  𝒕𝒉𝒆  𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒍  or  he  may  just  fall  apart  .

 ❭      ──     rebellion  was  not  something  expected  of  him  ,  the  most  extreme  he  had  intentionally  hit  was  going  to  university  for  law  for  a  year  .  he  was  almost  disowned  by  his  family  of  medical  professional  but  everyone  knew  rome  lived  and  breathed  science  to  even  be  remotely  happy  with  law  .  his  next  rebellion  was  unintentional  ,  roman  like  getting  what  he  wanted  ,  he  𝒄𝒓𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒅  𝒕𝒉𝒆  𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒃𝒊𝒅𝒅𝒆𝒏  and  sometimes  he  succumbed  to  the  impossible  .  he  involves  himself  with  a  married  woman  ,  he  craves  the  secrecy  ,  he  craved  the  lack  of  plans  and  control  .  he  doesn’t  love  her  but  𝒉𝒆  𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒑𝒖𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒔  𝒉𝒆𝒓  to  believe  he  does  ,  to  feel  out  of  control  even  for  a  second  .  it  crashes  and  burns  around  him  and  he  remembers  why  there  are  plans  and  rules  in  place  .  𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒖𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏  𝒘𝒂𝒔  𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈  to  the  de  grimaldis  and  family  was  above  everything  .  his  world  doesn’t  crash  and  burn  but  he  ruined  a  marriage  and  left  a  woman  who  bared  her  heart  and  soul  to  him  .  he  didn’t  even  look  back  .  rome  learnt  that  family  was  the  only  important  thing  .

temperament .

          ♡       +       intelligent           ♡       -        manipulative           ♡       +       charismatic           ♡       -        controlled           ♡       +       logical           ♡       -        vain

muse .

          ──     ▫     draco  malfoy           ──     ▫     tony  stark           ──     ▫     derek  shepard           ──     ▫     bruce  wayne           ──     ▫     derek  hale

current connections .

        ──    *     𝑨 𝑰 𝑺 𝑳 𝑰 𝑵 𝑵   𝑩 𝑼 𝑺 𝑻 𝑨 𝑴 𝑨 𝑵 𝑻 𝑬     ──     skinny  love  .  it  was  just  supposed  to  be  a  hook  up  but  rome  found  himself  ravelled  in  something  he  hadn’t  felt  for  a  while  .  he  fell  in  love  with  aislinn  fast  and  hard  and  he  did  what  he  did  best  ,  he  ran  with  excuses  coming  out  of  his  mouth  but  he  can’t  help  stop  feeling  what  he  does  for  aislinn  .

       ──    *     𝑨 𝑹 𝑫 𝑬 𝑵   𝑹 𝑶 𝑪 𝑲 𝑬 𝑭 𝑬 𝑳 𝑳 𝑬 𝑹     ──     best  friend  .  it  started  with  a  boring  party  ,  a  ring  pop  and  a  marriage  proposal  while  the  rest  was  history  .  rome  and  arden  are  best  friends  ,  somewhat  platonic  soulmate  and  loving  parents  to  a  beautiful  dog  named  percy  .  they’ve  been  best  friends  since  the  moment  they  met  with  marriage  pacts  and  a  scary  attachment  to  one  another  but  if  there  was  one  person  rome  would  protect  with  his  dying  breath  it  would  be  arden  .

       ──    *     𝑪 𝑶 𝑹 𝑵 𝑬 𝑳 𝑰 𝑼 𝑺   𝑹 𝑶 𝑪 𝑲 𝑬 𝑭 𝑬 𝑳 𝑳 𝑬 𝑹     ──     acquaintance  .  due  to  rome’s  relationships  with  neel’s  sisters  he  couldn’t  help  but  be  around  the  other  .  it  was  no  mistake  that  they  weren’t  best  friends  or  even  remotely  close  but  it  there  was  one  talent  rome  could  provide  to  neel’s  it  was  annoying  and  teasing  the  boy  in  question  with  no  sign  of  relenting  .

       ──    *     𝑱 𝑼 𝑫 𝑨 𝑺   𝑪 𝑹 𝑨 𝑾 𝑭 𝑶 𝑹 𝑫     ──     study  buddies  .  rome  finds  solitude  in    the  library  ,  he’s  a  medicine  student  there  really  isn’t  an  hour  he  doesn’t  study  and  finding  people  to  simply  study  with  is  scarce  .  he’s  never  really  cared  about  the  whole  rich  vs  poor  overview  and  jude  sitting  with  him  and  studying  was  enough  to  barter  a  friendship  from  him  .  

       ──    *     𝑳 𝑼 𝑪 𝑰 𝑨   𝑹 𝑬 𝒀 𝑬 𝑺     ──     frenemies  .  they  aren’t  exactly  friends  but  rome  tolerates  the  other  ,  they  don’t  hang  out  or  openly  hate  one  another  .  they  tolerate  one  another  ,  isn’t  that  enough  ?

       ──    *     𝑴 𝑰 𝑳 𝑨 𝑵   𝑩 𝑰 𝑨 𝑵 𝑪 𝑶     ──     best  friend  .  rome  had  met  milan  at  a  young  age  of  a  boring  party  his  father  had  dragged  him  to  and  they  couldn’t  help  but  be  anymore  different  .  milan  finding  a  way  to  hide  himself  in  isolation  had  intrigued  rome  to  leave  the  group  of  people  he  had  been  charming  and  thus  a  friendship  started  with  sitting  silently  and  reading  with  one  another  .  it  didn’t  take  long  for  rome  to  start  treating  the  other  as  his  younger  brother  ,  he  didn’t  tell  the  other  much  but  he  loved  him  to  the  end  of  the  earth  .

       ──    *     𝑶 𝑷 𝑯 𝑬 𝑳 𝑰 𝑨   𝑺 𝑶 𝑵 𝑮     ──     academic rival . these two hated each other from the minute they sat in same class ; rome was never openly smart he preferred excelling in silence but that didn’t stop him from finding someone who held different outlooks than him and that person happened to be ophelia . if she said something aloud , he rebutted , if she had a high grade , he had a percent higher . rome had a superiority complex and he wasn’t going to let ophelia song diminish it .

       ──    *     𝑻 𝒀 𝑩 𝑨 𝑳 𝑻   𝑺 𝑶 𝑵 𝑮     ──     friend  .  it  was  friendship  at  first  glance  ?  honestly  ,  these  two  are  friends  at  the  slimmest  point  :  they  don’t  trust  each  other  and  if  they  called  upon  their  loyalties  it  probably  wasn’t  one  another  but  they  had  one  thing  in  common  .  they  loved  bitching  about  ophelia  song  .  that  was  how  the  friendship  started  from  bitching  to  trouble  these  two  seem  to  be  somewhat  friends  .

wanted connection .

         ──     ▫     𝚅 𝙰 𝙽 𝙳 𝙴 𝚁 𝙱 𝙸 𝙻 𝚃        ❭        it’s  chaos  times  three  ,  they  cause  trouble  alone  but  when  you  put  them  together  it  is  absolute  chaos  .  they  say  to  never  make  a  deal  with  the  devil  ,  what  they  really  meant  was  never  make  a  deal  with  one  because  you’ll  get  three  of  them  asking  for  your  soul  .                                             ❭    ❭    ❭     taken by tybalt song .     ▫     one muse(s) open

        ──     ▫     𝙱 𝙻 𝙰 𝙲 𝙺 𝚆 𝙾 𝙾 𝙳       ❭        a  tragic  hate  turned  to  love  turned  back  to  hate  .  it’s  the  story  of  first  love  and  the  innocence  of  it  and  how  disastrous  it  can  become  .  how  people  who  grew  to  love  one  another  can  find  themselves  back  at  point  zero  .                                              ❭    ❭    ❭     taken by none .     ▫     no muse(s) open

        ──     ▫     𝚆 𝙸 𝙽 𝙳 𝚂 𝙾 𝚁       ❭        you  can’t  be  rome  de  grimaldi  without  leaving  people  with  manipulation  and  deception  that  is  masked  with  a  charming  smile  .  maybe  they  were  fated  to  have  opposing  families  like  romeo  and  juliet  but  if  the  story  took  a  u-turn  and  romeo  was  actually  still  seeing  rosaline  while  stringing  along  juliet  .  it’s  almost  love  ,  it’s  almost  unrequited  but  most  of  all  it’s  most  definitely  leading  to  some  vendetta  for  vengeance  .                                            ❭    ❭    ❭     taken by none .     ▫     one muse(s) open

        ──     ▫     𝙱 𝙰 𝚄 𝙳 𝙴 𝙻 𝙰 𝙸 𝚁 𝙴       ❭        this  is  pure  hate  between  two  .  give  me  rivalling  families  .  families  with  decades  or  centuries  of  bad  blood  between  one  another  .  give  me  a  harsh  childhood  rivalry  where  they  can’t  help  but  hate  one  another  .  give  me  them  finding  every  reason  to  hate  the  other  .  give  me  young  potter  vs  malfoy  vibes  .  feel  free  to  keep  the  sexual  tension  .                                            ❭    ❭    ❭     taken by none .     ▫     one muse(s) open

        ──     ▫     𝚁 𝙴 𝙸 𝙽 𝙴       ❭        this  person  has  it  out  for  rome  ,  the  are  either  related  or  have  a  relation  with  the  marriage  rome  had  ruined  that  one  summer  .  they  know  exactly  what  happened  :  they  know  about  his  father  paying  them  off  ,  they  know  about  the  de  grimaldi  threats  ,  they  know  about  rome  leaving  the  woman  who’s  marriage  he  ruined  for  nothing  .  and  they  are  angry  .                                            ❭    ❭    ❭     taken by none .     ▫     one muse(s) open

       ──     ▫     𝙲 𝙾 𝙻 𝙻 𝙸 𝙽 𝙶 𝚂 𝚆 𝙾 𝚁 𝚃 𝙷      ❭        this  is  a  typical  teammates  connection  with  rome  while  his  extracurriculars  are  based  around  lacrosse  ,  sailing  and  latin  club  .                                           ❭    ❭    ❭     taken by none .     ▫     a fuck ton muse(s) open

       ──     ▫     𝙿 𝙴 𝙼 𝙱 𝚁 𝙾 𝙾 𝙺 𝙴       ❭        rome  is  smart  concerning  the  subject  of  s.t.e.m  and  that  makes  him  liable  to  have  a  few  student  he  tutors  but  he  doesn’t  do  it  out  of  the  kindness  of  his  heart  or  money  .  he  usully  wants  to  be  paid  with  something  he  could  use  for  his  benefit  .                                           ❭    ❭    ❭     taken by none.     ▫     two muse(s) open

       ──     ▫     𝙳 𝚄 𝙱 𝙾 𝙸 𝚂      ❭        this  is  rome’s  eldest  sibling  connection  and  they  haven’t  seen  one  another  or  spoke  in  eighteen  years  .  they  grew  up  as  complete  opposites  after  their  parent’s  divorce  while  rome  grew  up  opulent  and  affluent  his  sibling  grew  up  on  the  opposite  side  of  tracks  with  their  mother  .  cape  coral  may  be  the  place  they  see  each  other  for  the  first  time  since  they  were  kids  .                                           ❭    ❭    ❭     taken by none .     ▫     one muse(s) open

[alexia-exalias-ask]

Deadly Enemies

(With @gothic-nerd​ ‘s muses)

By an early evening that was beginning to darken, Two young women were outside to enjoy their reunion days as they often do.

She was walking hand in hand on the sidewalk of a few businesses that were starting to close.

"It was a beautiful day, right" asked Exalia

"Yes it is. Like all the previous outings, ”replied Henrietta, smiling.

"Glad to hear it, my dear ~" she said with a small smile of satisfaction and approaching her by tearing her hand away to place it on her forearm to hug her.

"...And thank you…"

“Huh? Why ?"

"For having made me spend wonderful days by your side far from what is happening behind me"

Exalia was touched for her words, she stood in front of her and left him a tender kiss on her pink lips, which was surprised by her gesture.

"Your words are nice to hear, my dear. I will always do my best to make your days enjoyable and make you forget these atrocities happening to you. But know that we will find a way to get you out of this situation. I promise~ ”

Henrietta looked at her with eyes wide at the time of the latter's confession as it sparkled with a halo under the weak daylight but what was more surprising, it was her eyes which was usually blue without brightness (even with the sun) which also shone brightly.

They took the road to bring Henrietta home, without suspecting that she had been watched for a while. They stopped in front of a store window to admire its beauty until a masked person caught Henrietta and placed a cloth soaked in chloroform on her face to keep her from screaming.

“HEY! LET GO OF HER IMMEDIATELY… ”But as soon as she said so, she was struck in the back of the skull before falling to the ground and falling into unconsciousness.

Everything became silent until hearing a thud that buzzed her ears and made her awake with a painful headache and neck. Exalia noticed that she was tied to a chair in some sort of warehouse. She tried to break away from it and scream for attention but to no avail until suddenly heard a voice echoing throughout the warehouse.

"Well, Well, Well ~ ... You end up waking up from your long sleep from what I see."

Exalia heard this voice which answered him but not knowing who he is or seeing him.

"Who are you?! What am I doing here tied up and locked up? !! ”

"Oh ~ ... You will be one day and you are here because you were kidnapped by a few henchmen whom I hired to take you."

“Puff! Is loose." And suddenly, she remembered that she was with Henrietta when she too got caught and when she suddenly got knocked out. “WHERE IS MY GIRLFRIEND !!!!? WHERE IS SHE !!!!!"

“There's no point in howling a wolf like that. She is in another room still asleep and she is not insulted. In any case, not yet… ”

"You better not doing anything wrong to her, I would rip your guts out if I see her even if it were scratched somewhere on her! Untie me & come fight like a man if you have the guts! ” responded with adrenaline soaring at his threats.

"Oh no, it won't be necessary ... but I have better to hurt you psychologically ..." he said, changing his authoritarian voice into a threatening voice which made his prisoner doubt.

"What? And how?"

* Let's go back to Henrietta a little further *

In another room, the one in which Henrietta was locked up, woke up with that awful taste of chloroform which remained anchored on her breath which she had breathed during the attack.

"*Cough* But what happened? Where am I?" she said in a panicked tone in this narrow room.

“We were kidnapped. Someone put you to sleep while someone else knocked Exalia out before we lost consciousness. " responds Evangeline.

"And it seems to me that this is a kind of warehouse where we are now." she added

"We have to get out of here."

Henrietta discovered a piece of paper hanging on a page of newspaper and approached to find out what it contained.

* Message on the piece of paper *

“Good reading ... and discovery”

She looks at the newspaper page.

“This page dates from last year. Oh ! it must be this paragraph to read… ”

* On the journal page *

After reading it, they felt cold sweats for such violence that happened to his two people on the newspaper.

“But it's horrible what happened! Why do such a thing? ”She says with fright

"This country is filled with mad and so dangerous madmen ... and wait there is something else hanging on the newspaper"

Behind the newspaper hangs a photo of the young dancer during a hiring night.

“It must be the dancer, who could take a picture like that…”

Evan looked at the photo until he noticed something familiar.

“Hey Henri! Look to the right of the photo. ”

Henrietta listened to him and saw this person wearing a hood on his head and had a flash when he saw her face ”

“But it's Exalia! But what was she doing there and dressing like that?

Was she friends with her? ”

“... Or rather maybe, in crush on it I think…”

Henri remained silent for a while until someone came to open the door to order him to follow him. Henrietta put this page on the ground and obeyed, trying not to make a mistake.

* Come back to Exalia *

"What? ...And how?" says Exalia

This person hidden somewhere, let out a little sneer at her response.

"I did some research on your subject and ... it didn't really look pretty messy what I saw. But ... I finally found something very interesting about you."

Exal was puzzled by his gibberish and was dying of patience to know what he found about him.

"Ah.! ... What a good farce! Guilt is not my weak point." she said provokingly. "I am sure that you only have descriptive bits from a few witnesses during my past debauchery. We live in a world that is not very rosy and I am the proof ..."

She was suddenly cut off.

"Oh no ~ ... I have something more ... Violent than simple nocturnal child's play. I'll give you a hint ... It's a video ..." he said, leaving suspense at his sentences.

Exalia remained mute, thinking about what he said until he saw a door open with two people passing by and approaching her.

"Exalia!" said Henri surprised to see his girlfriend tied up

"Chérie! Oh god ... you got nothing? Did they hurt you?" said Exalia, Cheerful and relieved but with a little concern.

Henrietta smiled to reassure her and saying that she was fine and related what happened on her side (not to mention Evangeline for not arousing suspicion in the aggressor).

"Exalia ... I have a question ... Do you know a young dancer called" Orlane Raptut? "

Exalia turned pale at this request with a few cold sweats running down her forehead. "Wh ... Why this question, my angel?" she said a little panicked but trying to hide it.

"Answer me, Exalia ... Do you know her?"

Exalia took a breath before responding. "Yes, I know her and we were friends before she disappeared." she replies, looking away from her.

"Woah ... I thought you would tell him sincerely but I see how you are a liar, and even in front of your girlfriend. How pathetic you are." added the voice which was very quiet during the reunion.

Exalia remained silent with the glance out of the field of vision of Henrietta which she looked at her with the shocked face and saw this one which did not answer and even without looking her in the face.

Exalia replied with lack of tact: "What concerns her ?! Why make her discover this one ?! It's not her business ?!

Her voice, which was calm at the start, became cold and hostile to this response, which made Henrietta frightened and hurt by her response.

"Oh lala ~ How long you take to relax! But think you understand what I told you about" This video "." he says

Exalia understood what he was going to do and became even whiter and no longer hid his panic.

"And if we were going to watch this one together as a kind of" Family "video.

"NO! YOU BETTER NOT TO DO ...."

A screen of light appeared on the wall and projected this video on it.

(On progress)