#Scream: Music from the Motion Picture

[rika-mmendmethings]

Against Blood & Water l Sylus

Chapter 2

←CH 1 l CH 3→

Summary: Seventeen years ago, your life had taken a turn for the worse when your newborn twins were separated from you by a cruel twist of fate. The same fate had led you to the N109 Zone, to your children who were all grown up now. Reconciliation with your boys would've been slightly easier had they somehow not acquired a father figure over the years who wasn't letting them go anytime soon.

Warning(s): Subject to change as we progress further into the story. For this chapter: mentions of blood and drugs, self-suturing, minor character deaths, stalking, some comfort in this one.

Word count: 1.8k

Playlist coming soon.

Notes: New chapter every Thursday! This story is for the Sylus girlies' who consider Luke and Kieran their babies. A little information on the timeline: in this story, the reader is 35 with Luke and Kieran being 17. Sylus never felt like 28 to me so he's a hot ass 39 year old man (bear with me). The timeline is a bit confusing I know but soon it'd be cleared too. If you have any more questions, feel free to ask me and I'd try my best to give you a proper answer without revealing too much. Let me know if you wish to be added in the tag list for this series. ♥

Tag list: @babyx91 @pillarofsnow @beyond-the-stars-fairy @yuki-sama6 @sylviewrites @idiashusband @sadmonke @monophobix @lunarvolley @stxrrielle @fries11 @gremlinartstudio @lillycore @novthirty @animegamerfox @cathedralofaudra @nm4565natty @69-gojos-wife-69 @eolivy @namjoons-toenails @silverianni @nezuswritingdesk @beaconsxd @justpassingdontworry @ruyaya

The warehouse loomed like a tomb swallowed by the night, its skeletal frame etched against the bruised sky, whispering secrets of violence and forgotten deals. Flickering neon lights spilled weak, jaundiced glows onto the cracked concrete floor, casting long, distorted shadows that danced like specters of the past. The air was thick with the metallic tang of blood, oil, and the faint, acrid bite of burned rubber. 

You ran for your life through the chaos like a monkey with its tail on fire. Bad idea. Your mind had screamed at you an hour ago as you snuck into the warehouse to investigate further the drug traces that led to it. But you rarely listened to your brain, and that habit had brought you to this exact moment — hidden behind a few metal racks, your hand gripping your gun beneath the armor of your tailored black blazer.

You’d made the rookie mistake of visiting the warehouse without double-checking if it was truly empty. Some men from the drug-dealing gang were dozing off on makeshift beds after consuming too much liquor. Being light on your feet, you’d made sure not to make any noise just in case, and you were almost done collecting evidence when things went south. You’d pulled out your Polaroid camera for instant pictures of the drug packets, but after a few mechanical shutter sounds, you heard other noises in the background.

You ducked behind metal containers, your heart halting when you peeked and saw burly men searching around. Thus began your little cat-and-mouse game.

Back in the present moment, you analyzed the situation after calming yourself down. Four men on the ground floor of the warehouse, rifles in hand, with you on the first floor. You had a gun, of course — you weren’t that stupid — but taking all of them down would be a hassle, especially with a limited number of bullets. Soon enough, they’d come up to search.

You quickly formed a plan: distract them by aiming at your far left, behind the metal containers, then jump off the first floor and hurry out through the small cavity in the wall you’d come in from. You smacked your forehead with your hand when your mind began to play the Subway Surfers theme song as if it were the musical backdrop of a film starring you.

You were all set to put your plan into motion when you heard their raised voices. But their angry spouts weren’t directed at you — they were directed at someone else who had entered the warehouse. A complete silence fell over the space, and as you strained your hearing, you could make out a new, huskier voice.

Soon after, loud, painful screams echoed before abruptly stopping. You heard footsteps retreating, presumably out of the warehouse.

You blinked once, processing the turn of events. The men who were targeting you were probably lying dead on the ground floor right now — victims of another man who wanted them dead. Strange. You thought, glancing at the Polaroid camera hanging around your neck. At least the evidence was safe, and you were alive. You’d think about who your guardian angel was later. For now, you need to head back to your temporary apartment in the slightly safer regions of the N109 Zone.

You rolled back your tensed shoulders and moved out of your hiding spot, making your way downstairs via a mostly hidden and rusty staircase. Your gun was still tightly clutched in your right hand, just in case. You were about to weasel out of the wall cavity when two pairs of footsteps had you freezing.

You immediately whipped around, aiming your gun at the origin of the sound, and shot without thinking twice.

The tall person you’d shot groaned, knees buckling as he fell to the ground. Beside him, another man in the same uniform, groaning just a second later, clutched his arm before also crumbling to the ground. You gasped, realizing they hadn’t even been on your trail — they were walking over to the dead, burly men.

You felt bad, okay? You knew anything could happen if you moved closer to the unknown individuals, but you didn’t wish to leave them in that condition — especially since they hadn’t even targeted you. They were probably henchmen of your supposed guardian angel if their matching black costumes and crow-themed masks — with horns and beaks concealing their faces — meant anything.

After an internal battle between your logic and your conscience, you finally decided to approach them. You were still on guard but had put your gun away in its holster under your blazer. You nudged the men, but they didn’t even budge, so you assumed they’d passed out from the pain. You pondered why the second man had passed out if he hadn’t even been anywhere near the bullet.

Rushing to your motorcycle, you grabbed your medical kit and hurried back to them.

Luckily, the bullet hadn’t entered anyone’s body — it had only grazed the first man’s arm. It left an angry, gaping gash, though, which was currently bleeding. You rolled his sleeve up to his shoulder and began stitching it. You needed to get this done before they woke and swore mortal enmity against you. You tried to hurry, not really wanting to know if the stitches were messy, but some unknown feeling had you slowing down and being a lot more gentle than you could possibly afford right now.

After some time, you were done tending to the first man’s wounds and had even checked the second man for any injuries for inexplicable reasons. You quickly stood up, double-checking if you had everything you owned on you before rushing out of the warehouse to where your bike was hidden. You put your belongings in the saddlebag before zipping it shut. As you were about to grab your helmet, a small tap on your shoulder caused you to freeze mid-air.

You glanced at the two sets of shadows stretching on the ground just behind yours. It seemed you’d wasted too much time, and now you were about to be barbecued by the probably angry young henchmen. With no backup plan in mind, you turned around with your hands raised in surrender and eyes clenched shut.

“Thanks, missus.”

You’d expected a gun’s muzzle to your head or a hand around your neck, strangling you. And out of all the other wild things you’d expected, thanks was the last of them. You thought you were dreaming until another calm voice brought you back.

“You shot us unknowingly out of human instinct. But you still tended to us, so we decided to drop by and let you know we appreciated that.”

You were hyperventilating, you were sure of it. Until the first man spoke with a lilt:

“Your aim is super cool, though, missus. We were actually awake but wanted to see who had shot us, so we played dead, and it worked.”

You slowly lowered your hands as you heard them burst into hearty laughter. You opened your eyes, rigid as you took sight of their faces beneath the masks. The injured one wiped the sweat off his forehead with a napkin, and the other rubbed his chin — all the while laughing.

It wasn’t their near-identical faces that threw you off — no — it was the color of their eyes. Their irises were the same hues as yours: electric grey, intense as storm-churned clouds.

A gripping realization churned your heart as you silently noted the inky, curly locks — like those of the father of your late twins — and the resemblance to you in their facial features and height. Your lips wobbled, and the smarter side of you willed you not to jump to conclusions. But how could you ignore the unfamiliar warmth and contentment in your chest as you watched them laugh and interact?

Still, the lawyer in you knew better than to claim anything without evidence backing it up, so you remained quiet. They looked quite young, probably in their late teens, and that assumption caused your mind to race.

You pulled yourself together as both of them started speaking simultaneously:

“Anyways—”

The twins narrowed their eyes at each other, and you suppressed a smile.

The uninjured one continued, “We have to deal with the dead scums inside and be back before dusk, so sayonara, missus.”

Both of them saluted you as if you were some sort of general before turning on their heels.

Before they were out of earshot, you called out, “Wait.”

The twins turned around, looking at you quizzically. You shuffled on your feet, asking reluctantly, “What are your names?”

The twins nodded. The injured one pointed at himself and introduced, “The one who you shot is me. I’m Luke, the elder twin,” he pointed to his brother and trailed on, “And this is Kierran, the younger twin. Now, we really ought to dash before boss-man has us in a tight spot. Bye, missus.”

The twins waved you goodbye in sync before hurrying back into the warehouse.

You felt as if lightning had struck you. All doubts, all what-ifs — cleared. You’d crocheted a pair of blankets when you’d found out you were having twin boys seventeen years ago. Your mother had suggested adding the names you’d chosen for them on it too, aside from the cartoons.

Luke and Kierran.

You’d smiled in pure bliss that day as you told your father the names you’d chosen for your kids from the crocheted blankets. A smile of the same kind, albeit even happier, now bloomed on your face as you realized that fate had found a way to reunite you with your children once again.

And you weren’t letting them out of your sight ever again. 

A joyful smile curled across your face as you slipped into the dim confines of the apartment — your so-called temporary hideout. The door clicked shut behind you with finality.

You dropped onto the couch, sinking into the worn-out plush. Their faces played over in your mind, every gesture, every word. You were already thinking of the next move, the next encounter. You’d make it happen. You always did.

But then… a pause.

Your brow furrowed, the grin faltering just slightly as a thought cut through the haze like a blade.

“They mentioned some boss-man…” you muttered, voice low, nearly lost to the silence. Your gaze flicked to the window, unfocused. “Who exactly are my children working for?”

The room gave no answer.

But if you'd been paying closer attention — if you'd listened to the silence — you might have caught the almost imperceptible flutter of feathers, or the faintest click of talons on steel. A pair of glowing, crimson eyes blinked once from the darkness, then vanished. The answer to your question, however, did not linger.

The spy departed, slicing through the night sky until it reached the edge of a sprawling mansion. It landed softly on the calloused fingers of the very man you were trying to uncover. The bird gave a mechanical caw as a red hologram burst into life, casting a ghostly light across the man’s face.

There you were, speaking, pacing, questioning. Vulnerable. Unaware.

“Interesting,” the man said, voice like fine velvet. His eyes burned with something unreadable — part curiosity, part calculation.

He leaned forward, watching the screen closely.

“Very… interesting.”

Check out my other works if you liked this ♥

[loveinhawkins]

gently prise the feeling out

ao3 Written for @steddie-week Day 2 prompt, “hands.”

It’s the movement that catches Steve’s eye: Eddie’s hands flexing gingerly as they walk through the woods.

At first Steve dismisses it as a nervous habit—honestly, he’d say Eddie’s holding up pretty well for someone who recently swam into an alternate dimension—but then his flashlight illuminates the side of Eddie’s face at just the right moment, and he sees the clenched jaw of discomfort.

“Are you hurt?”

Surprisingly, Eddie doesn’t look like he’s been found out; he just looks puzzled. “Uh, no?”

“Your hands,” Steve clarifies. “You keep…” With his free hand, he imitates the motion.

“Oh,” Eddie says. “I didn’t know I was—it’s nothing, man, really, just—” He laughs slightly. “Was swinging the oar around, managed to hit a bat—Jesus Christ, those fuckers are heavy. Honestly, it’s, uh, kind of a miracle I hit it at all, d’you remember how shit I was at baseball?”

“You weren’t that bad,” Steve says—vaguely recalls the days of shared phys ed and thinks, you were just left-handed, and no-one threw the ball at you properly.

Eddie’s lips twitch into a smile. “You’re very generous, Harrington,” he says; the words sound like they’re placed somewhere in between teasing and genuine. As he speaks, he subtly shakes his hands out.

Steve angles the flashlight down to them. “Lemme see.”

Eddie blinks. “You’re kidding.”

Steve stands his ground, just raises an eyebrow expectantly. Robin and Nancy aren’t that far ahead; they’ll catch up again in no time.

Eddie shakes his head in disbelief. Scoffs. “Um, I think I’ll live, Steve. I can’t believe you’re even—like, you’re—” He gestures wildly, and it takes Steve a second to realise that he’s referring to the bat bites.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Steve says with practised confidence; right now, he doesn’t have time to be anything else.

“Then I’m fine, too.”

Steve resists the urge to roll his eyes; he doesn’t want to be locked in a stalemate out of their mutual stubbornness.

“Dude, I could’ve already looked by now.”

Eddie actually rolls his eyes at that. He turns his hands over quickly, darting in and out of the flashlight’s beam like he’s saying ta-da!

“Wow,” Steve says in mock astonishment. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know you were five.” He makes a beckoning gesture, like an impatient teacher waiting for homework.

Eddie smirks as if he’s trying not to laugh outright. And then he joins in on the act, too, stomping over with theatrical reluctance.

“Watch the vines,” Steve says, amused.

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie says, “that’d be a real stupid way to go.” He stops right in front of Steve—and this time, he shows his hands properly: cupped together, arms outstretched.

“Can you just—need ‘em a little more—” Instinctively, Steve puts a hand underneath Eddie’s, gently pushes them up, further into the light. “Yeah, there.”

Eddie’s skin is cold to the touch; it reminds him of how Robin’s hands had felt the night of Starcourt and, less distressingly, whenever she’s nervous before a practical music exam.

He moves the flashlight back and forth in assessment. It doesn’t seem like anything’s swollen—he remembers the ache of his own hand that night in ‘83: the erratic pulse of Christmas lights as if they were possessed; the crack of the baseball bat; Jonathan and Nancy’s screams.

But what the flashlight does expose is…

“Ouch,” Steve says sincerely.

Eddie’s hands are embedded with splinters.

Eddie shakes his head again. He nods at the bandage across Steve’s middle. “C’mon, man, I don’t—these aren’t exactly war wounds.”

Steve decides not to fight him on it. Opts for a lighter touch, “No more oars for you.”

Eddie chuckles the tiniest bit. It’s a sad sound.

“Yeah, that’s not—they’re from Rick’s. The, um, the boat, y’know? I…” Eddie bites his lip. “It’s kinda… fuzzy, but I’d fall asleep in there, like just for a second, and then I guess I’d—” His fingers twitch above Steve’s palm. “Panic.”

Steve can picture it: Eddie starting awake, hands scrambling across the rough wood, as if in desperation for it all to be a nightmare; that maybe if he kept searching the splinters would melt away, transform into the softness of bedsheets.

“Remind me later,” Steve says, and he pats the unmarked skin of Eddie’s knuckles in reassurance. Keeps his touch there so he’s still partially holding Eddie’s hands up. “I’ll get them out with a pin, I’m good at…” He falters at Eddie’s silence. “I’ll be careful,” he says—it feels important, suddenly, that Eddie should know.

Eddie looks at him. The reflection of the flashlight’s glow flickers in his eyes.

“Yeah, I know,” he says softly.

One of his hands tilts ever so slightly, fingertips brushing against Steve’s palm. Then he steps back, hands falling down to his sides.

Steve resumes illuminating the forest floor. They walk on, and in the quiet, the air feels different, changed—for the better, Steve hopes: like something tender’s been exposed to the surface.

[rootedinrevisions]

Lost in the Crowd

Summary: Glen surprises his Swiftie girlfriend with VIP tickets to The Eras Tour. The night is supposed to be magical. But due to some missteps with Glen’s security team the night doesn’t quite go as planned.

Warnings: Unwanted Physical Contact (being grabbed without consent)

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: This is a mix of a one-shot I started sometime last year, paired with a request from @hunterthecharmer. Hope you guys like it! ♡♡

The city starts to fade as the black SUV pulls onto the final stretch of road leading to SoFi Stadium. Even with the windows up, you can feel the electricity in the air. The distant pulse of music, the collective thrill of thousands of voices buzzing with anticipation, and rows of cars all heading to the same place. Neon lights flash against the night sky, illuminating the massive stadium in shades of pink and purple. 

The moment you spot the giant screens displaying Taylor Swift | The Eras Tour, your breath catches. You turn to Glen, eyes wide with disbelief, but he’s already watching you, a slow, satisfied grin stretching across his face. 

“Surprise, sweetheart.”

Your heart pounds. “Glen—are you serious?”

He chuckles, squeezing your hand. “Figured I’d finally see what all the hype is about. And what better way than to experience it with my favorite Swiftie?”

The reality hits you all at once. You’re here. At The Eras Tour. With Glen, your sweet, kind, loving, caring, amazing boyfriend.  In a matter of minutes, you’ll be inside, singing at the top of your lungs with thousands of others. 

Outside the car fans flood the sidewalks in sequins, fringe, and rhinestones, friendship bracelets stacked up their arms. The sheer joy radiating from the crowd is contagious. People are laughing, posing for pictures, trading bracelets. All completely wrapped up in the magic of the night. The moment the SUV slows near the VIP entrance, screams erupt. Phones flash, cameras lift, and suddenly, the excitement is tinged with a new kind of energy.

Glen is used to this. He shifts effortlessly into his easygoing charm, offering waves and quick smiles through the tinted window. But before he even reaches for the door handle, his security team is already in motion. Four men, dressed in black, move in sync, positioning themselves around the vehicle. The second Glen steps out, the crowd surges closer.

Then he turns back to you. Reaching for your hand, he helps you out of the car, his touch warm and steady. The stadium looms behind him, massive and glowing, but for a second, all you see is him. The way his eyes search yours, making sure you’re just as excited as he hoped you’d be.

He leans in, voice low. “Ready?”

You squeeze his hand back, heart racing. “More than ready.”

As you and Glen make your way into the building, all around you Swifties in dazzling outfits move in excited clusters. Sparkling dresses inspired by every era catch the light—Fearless gold fringe, Red heart-shaped sunglasses, Reputation black sequins, Lover pastel dreamscapes.

Girls pass by wearing cowboy hats and "Not a Lot Going on at the Moment" T-shirts, some wrapped in bedazzled denim jackets with lyrics hand-painted on the back. A group of fans nearby are trading friendship bracelets, their wrists stacked with colorful beads spelling out inside jokes and song titles.

A girl in a sparkly pink corset and white boots gasps when she sees Glen. “Oh my God, it’s Top Gun Ken!” she squeals, immediately grabbing her friend’s arm.

Glen lets out a breathy chuckle, flashing them a quick wink. The moment is pure joy, electric and contagious.

He turns to you, his hand still wrapped around yours, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Worth the surprise?”

Your heart swells. “Are you kidding? This is—”

A sudden shift in movement cuts your sentence short. The security team moves into position. Four guards subtly adjust their positions, closing in around you and Glen as the crowd thickens. They move in sync, fluid and professional, one stepping ahead, another flanking Glen’s right, the last two just a step behind.

You know they’re here for protection. For Glen’s safety. You understand the need for it. But as they shift, you are pulled away from Glen’s side.  

You feel the shift before you fully process it. One second, you’re right at Glen’s side, his hand warm and steady in yours. The next, a strong grip clamps down on your arm. Before you can react, you’re being yanked backward.

A sharp breath catches in your throat as you stumble, your free hand instinctively pushing against the solid chest of the security guard hauling you away. The force of it wrenches your arm, almost painfully, as he moves you further from Glen.

"Hey wait, what the—" You try to pull away, but his grip is unrelenting.

Then, just as suddenly, the guard seems to recognize you. His gaze flickers to your face, registering who you are. His expression doesn’t shift, no recognition beyond simple protocol, but he reaches out anyway and grips your upper arm with firm pressure as he guides you closer to Glen.

Your breath catches as you pull away, brushing it off, but the action doesn’t go unnoticed. Glen catches it. All of it. In an instant, the easy warmth in his expression shifts. 

His jaw tightens and he looks at the security guard. "No need to grab her like that, man."

The guard hesitates, the weight of Glen’s gaze pinning him in place. A beat passes, thick with unspoken tension.

Then a clipped, muttered apology. "I thought she was a fan. I was just-."

“Grabbing her?” Glen’s jaw tightens further. He slides his hand down to rest protectively on your lower back as you lean into his side. “Touch my girlfriend like that again and we’ll have problems.”

“Yes, sir.” The body guard quickly says. 

Glen pauses for a second, his gaze still fixed on the security guard. Finally he takes a breath and continues walking. His arm sliding to fully wrap around you, pulling you against his side so that you can’t get separated or pushed away again.

The bodyguard keeps his eyes forward, saying nothing else. But there’s an unmistakable tension now, a sharp edge between him and Glen that wasn’t there before.

Glen doesn’t say anything else either. He doesn’t have to. But as he leads you forward, his hold on you doesn’t loosen. Not once. Glen keeps you close. His arm, still wrapped around you, slides down until his fingers find yours again. This time, his grip is firmer. Secure.

"You good?" he asks, leaning in so only you can hear. His voice is warm, low enough to cut through the noise.

You nod, squeezing his hand in return. "Perfect."

But then the crowd surges. The packed mass of people pushes forward, shoulder to shoulder, making space impossibly tight. Security tenses, adjusting their positions in sync. They form a tight perimeter - solid, unyielding, hyper-focused.

On Glen. Not You. 

At first, you don’t think much of it. You stick close, trying to keep your footing as the wave of movement shifts.

But then someone bumps into you hard. Your fingers slip from Glen’s. You stumble just a step, and for just a second. But it’s enough. Another push from behind. You lose more ground. 

And then suddenly he’s gone. Glen is gone. The wall of security closes around him, moving forward without you. None of them notice. Your heart slams into your ribs as you lurch forward, trying to squeeze between bodies.

"Glen!" Your voice is swallowed by the sheer deafening roar of the crowd. Music thumps from inside the stadium, laughter and conversation layering over it. 

The movement of the crowd shoves you back again, and again. No one is looking for you. Glen’s security, his highly trained, ever-vigilant security, hasn’t even realized they lost you.

Your breath quickens, a flicker of panic starting to rise. You stand on your toes, straining to see over the crush of bodies, but Glen’s nowhere in sight.

Another shove. A sharp elbow clips your side. You stumble back, blinking rapidly as the flashing arena lights blur in your vision.

Meanwhile Glen glances at his side, and it hits him. You’re not there. He looks down at his hand that you had been holding and it’s empty. Glen stops in his tracks, scanning the faces around him, expecting to see you just a half step behind.

But you’re not there. His brows knit together as he realizes he doesn’t see you anymore. His usually easygoing demeanor evaporates, replaced by a rush of controlled panic. His chest tightens, his heartbeat thudding too loudly in his ears.

“Where is she?” The words are sharp. 

His voice is low and even, but something about his tone makes all four security guards freeze. They turn to look at him, confused.

“Where’s my girlfriend?” Glen says again, voice raising slightly.

One of them glances around and then says, “she was just-” He then stops, realizing he doesn’t actually know where you are.

“You lost her?” His tone doesn’t change, but the air around them does. The guards who are all trained professionals, hired to keep him safe, all begin to realize they’ve messed up badly.

Glen exhales sharply through his nose, his jaw tightening as he doesn’t wait for them to figure it out. You’re lost in an arena filling up with seventy-thousand people. He doesn’t have time to waste.

He’s now moving through the crowd. His movements are fluid but frantic, but he’s not stopping. People shove and push, but nothing can slow him down now. His pulse is racing. This isn’t how this was supposed to go. The security guards struggle to keep up with his hurried pace.

With every step, that familiar flicker of dread takes root in his stomach. He can’t see you. He can’t feel your hand in his. You’re gone.

Meanwhile panic starts to seep into your chest. Where is Glen? He was just right there with you. He couldn’t have gotten very far, you think to yourself as you continue to scan the crowd for him. You try to hold yourself steady, taking deep breaths. This isn’t the end of the world. He’s nearby, he has to be nearby.

But then, it hits you—you don’t have your phone. Your outfit doesn’t have pockets, so Glen had your phone tucked into his jacket pocket, just in case you needed it.

You try to glance around, but the crowd of people are pressing in. There’s too much noise, too much movement. You can’t even tell if he’s near. You wish you could signal him, but you can’t even raise your arms without someone else bumping into you.

The world feels like it’s shrinking around you. You also can’t just meet him in the VIP area because you can’t get into the VIP area without him because he has your tickets too.

It’s then that your breath catches. There’s no way out of this. The sick feeling in your stomach twists tighter. You’re completely on your own in a crowd of thousands, no way to contact him, no way to find him.

Tears well up in your eyes, unbidden, but you blink them away. You can’t break down, not here, not now.

And just as you’re about to lose it, you hear it. “Sweetheart! Hey!” Followed by your name. The sound of your name rings through the chaos. 

You whip your head around, trying to catch a glimpse. And there just a few rows of people away is Glen, his face a mix of relief and worry.

"Glen!" You say in relief

His feet are already moving, quick steps, weaving through the crowd toward you. He reaches you in seconds, grabbing your hand to pull you toward him.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart. You’re okay,” he mutters, his voice low, soothing, but with an undertone of tension that you can’t ignore. The words are a relief—a promise that you’re safe again—but the intensity behind them makes your heart race just a little faster.

You can feel his quickened pulse and the tension that’s been building in his body ever since he realized you were gone as you wrap your arms around him. His relief is palpable as he tightens his hold on you, his movements steady but almost protective too.

The noise of the crowd begins to fade as the two of you make your way into the VIP area. It’s quieter here, more secluded, and Glen’s focus never wavers as he keeps you close to his side the whole way. 

But there’s a stillness to him now, as though something inside him is trying to process what just happened. The security team trails behind, but they don’t speak. Or they don’t dare to speak is more likely.

Once the door shuts behind them sealing off the noise of the crowd, Glen finally turns to face his security team. 

His voice is low, calm, but there’s no mistaking the anger simmering beneath. “How did you lose her?”

The lead security guard stammers, his face paling. “It was crowded, sir. We were keeping you secure—”

Glen shakes his head, cutting him off with a look that speaks volumes. “And you didn’t think to watch her, too? She’s with me which means you’re here to keep her safe too.”

Silence. No one answers, and the tension in the room becomes suffocating. It’s not just the quiet. It’s the weight of a mistake that shouldn’t have happened, and the reality of how much you mean to Glen.

Then, the same guard who had overstepped earlier—the one who grabbed you—mutters something under his breath.

Glen doesn’t let it slide. His eyes flick to the man, his posture rigid but controlled. “What was that?”

The guard, not picking up on the severity of the situation, shrugs nonchalantly. “It’s not our job to watch her. Our job is to protect you. That’s what you pay us for, right? She can handle herself.”

A cold silence follows. The air thickens. The weight of the words hangs between them, and even the other three guards shift uncomfortably as they sense the shift in the room.

Glen doesn’t move or react immediately, but something in his eyes darkens, a flicker of anger that’s carefully contained. He steps forward just enough to close the distance. It’s not a step that threatens violence, but one that exudes dominance.

“Let me get this straight,” Glen’s voice is deceptively calm and measured, but beneath it there’s a razor-sharp edge. “First you grab my girlfriend and try to jerk her around. Then you let her get separated from me in a crowd of thousands. You didn’t notice. You didn’t look for her. And now, instead of owning that mistake, you’re telling me it’s not your job?”

The guard opens his mouth to say something, but Glen doesn’t let him finish.

“You’re done.”

The words are cold, and they settle like ice in the air. The guard blinks, eyes widening. “Excuse me?”

Glen’s gaze never wavers. His voice never rises. It’s smooth, calm, like a glacier moving at its own pace, unstoppable. 

“You’re fired.”

The rest of the security team exchanges nervous glances, but no one dares speak up. The tension in the room is almost suffocating, and even the man who’s been dismissed doesn’t argue. He looks to his colleagues for support, but no one moves to help him. There’s nothing left for him here. He sighs and turns to leave.

Glen stands still, his focus now on the man in front of him, the lead security guard. Glen’s  eyes narrow, and the silence between them stretches on, like a silent promise that this mistake will never happen again. And it’s clear to the other three men that it will be unacceptable if something like this happens again.

Finally Glen turns back to you, his expression softening as his gaze meets yours. His jaw loosens slightly, and the hard lines in his face relax just enough for you to see the concern beneath.

He steps closer, cupping your face gently in his hands. His touch is tender, a contrast to the cold tension that still hangs in the air. 

“You okay?” His voice is quieter now, softer, but the intensity is still there.

You nod, and for a moment it feels like he’s not convinced. His brow furrows as he examines you.

“That should’ve never happened.” His tone is firmer now, more resolute, the promise in his voice unmistakable. “And it won’t happen again.”

His words are a reassurance. And you know deep down he’ll do whatever it takes to make sure nothing like this ever comes close to happening again.

The air in the VIP area is quieter and cooler. The crowd’s energy still pulses through the arena, but here  it feels like the world is just a little smaller. It’s easy to forget the chaos that just unfolded, especially with Glen standing there

He lets out a breath  like he’s finally exhaling the stress that had been building up in his chest over the past half hour. His eyes soften as he looks at you.

“I didn’t mean to overreact,” he says, his voice now warm, an undertone of apology in the way his lips pull. “But I can’t just let something like that go.”

You smile up at him, a small, knowing grin. “I know,” you reply softly, your fingers brushing across his hand in a gesture of reassurance.

As the lights dim and the crowd’s roar grows to a crescendo, the energy of the arena shifts. The first chords of Taylor Swift’s opening song crackle over the speakers, and you can feel the rush of excitement flood back. The tension fades into the background, leaving only the vibrant, pulsating rhythm of the concert ahead.

Glen leans in, his voice low in your ear as the music begins, “You ready for this?”

You laugh, unable to suppress the excitement bubbling inside of you. “I was born ready.”

He grins, his eyes lighting up with shared excitement. He pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you from behind as he holds you against his chest, his chin resting lightly on your shoulder. The warmth of his body is a comforting contrast to the cool air around you.

For a moment, there’s nothing else but the two of you, surrounded by thousands of fans, but lost in your own little world. The excitement of the concert and the electric atmosphere sinks in deeper now, but it’s the quiet intimacy between you and Glen that makes this moment special.

You turn your head slightly to glance up at him, feeling his presence more than seeing it. He’s so calm, so steady, even now. He’s like an anchor that keeps you grounded no matter how chaotic everything else gets. His hand finds its way to your stomach, fingers splayed wide, holding you gently but firmly in place.

The music swells, and you can’t help but give in to the rhythm, moving with the crowd. But you stay connected to him, his grip on you never loosening.

As Taylor’s voice echoes through the stadium, the lyrics of the song perfectly mirror the way you’re feeling in this moment—alive, unburdened, and completely immersed in the experience.

Glen’s hand shifts, resting at your hips now, guiding you as you sway to the music. His touch is gentle as the crowd around you erupts in a chorus of voices singing along.

Every now and then his face dips closer to yours, lips brushing your ear as he sings softly along with the song, a private moment amid the sea of fans. His breath warm against your skin, creates an intimacy that only the two of you share.

With each song that passes you can feel the weight of the earlier tension lifting, swept away by the music, the crowd, and the ease between the two of you. The feeling of being protected and cherished is still fresh in your mind, but the electric pulse of the concert washes it away, leaving nothing but fun, laughter, and the joy of the shared experience.

You glance up at Glen, meeting his gaze, and for the first time all night, you feel an overwhelming sense of peace. No words are needed between you now. Just the rhythm of the music, the feel of his hand on you, and the shared joy of the experience.

[littleadaline]

Grief Has No Shape [P.G8]

Warnings: talk of death, heavy feelings, grief

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: Sorry for being MIA, I have been focusing on university. I wrote this piece as a way to channel the grief I often carry around when it comes to my grandfather. Although he passed away when I was 11, I often feel down when I see people who have grown up with their grandparents near them. It makes me wonder how his and I’s relationship could have evolved, the bond we could have developed had we had more time, had cancer not happened. To all of those who are grieving, or have been grieving, I send you all my love xx

——————————————

Grief was weird. It knew no bound, no shape, and it didn’t have an expiration date. You have grieved your native city, relationships and friendships, life experiences that were ripped away from you, but the hardest was when death and its effects rippled through your life.

You walked back into the shared house, the dimmed lights greeting you, the lack of warmth holding a mirror to your reality. Your bag slid off your shoulder as you took off your shoes. On the console table, a card caught your attention. You slowly picked it up, your eyes glazing over the picture, your heart clenching at the sight of that smile that once felt like home. The front door opened once again, this time, Pedri walking into the house. He was holding a bouquet of flowers, which he gently placed on the mahogany table. He untied his tie, slipping off his shoes, his hand faintly laying flush against your waist.

“I’ll make us something to eat.” He placed a kiss on your cheek, his hand stroking your hair. “I’m so sorry, mi vida.” He held your face in his hands. You looked away, kissing the palm of his hands, feeling your grief flooding back to the surface. You leaned in closer, the weight of everything bringing you on the verge of tears. Your arms hugged Pedri’s waist, the sound of his heart keeping you from spiraling.

He led you to the couch, sitting you gently. Before you could react, his grip tightened on you, holding you with such force that you thought your ribs would break. On any other day you would have jokingly kicked him away, tickling him under the chin, leading to him loosening his grip on you. But today, you needed his reassurance, you needed his presence to keep you sane.

The faint ticks of the clock in the dining room crowded the room. Feeling unable to verbally communicate the weight of your emotions, you laid back into his arms. Outside, the neighborhood was vibrant; the sound of family picnics; laughing children; and faint music flowing through the streets, creating a stark contrast between your life and the one outside.

As if life was punishing you, you heard a child in the streets scream.

“Abuelo, espérame!”

You buried your head into Pedri’s chest, unleashing all the grief you had been enduring for the past days. Your shoulders shook as your walls came crashing down. Your chest tightened, your mind racing to all the times where you had come short of being a good granddaughter.

“Shhh.” Pedri cooed as he rubbed your back in a desperate attempt to regulate your breathing. He leaned over, grabbing a tissue, lifting your head to wipe away your tears. You closed your eyes at the gesture.

“How does one get over this?” You asked, the emptiness of the room making your skin crawl. It had been 4 days since you had received the call that had changed your life. 4 days since you had fallen down to your knees, your sobs flooding your face as you called out for his name, praying to God that it wasn’t real. 4 days since Pedri had rushed out of training as soon as he got word of what had happened.

He unbuttoned his cuffs, scooching closer to you. He took your hands in his, thumb rubbing your skin in a slow, circular motion.

“Mi vida…You don’t. And I know it’s probably not the answer that you’re looking for, but…the grief will eventually subside and you’ll feel better. It’ll stop occupying all this space and will eventually find its own place in your soul.” He took a deep breath. “Grief is love that has nowhere to go.” He bent over, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Pedri took your hands, placing a delicate kiss on each knuckle.

“Despite the distance, you showed up for all the family reunions, every doctor’s appointment, every birthday. When some family members took advantage of his situation and stole from him, you stood your ground. Put his most precious possessions into a safe and changed the locks on his house.”

You cracked a shy smile.

“I just miss him, you know? I’ll miss how he used to call as soon as the clock struck twelve on my birthday, or how he always had my favorite candle burning in the kitchen whenever I visited.” You fiddled with the obituary picture in front of you. “He was a good man, Pepito.” You laid back into his arms. “He taught me how to ride a bike, and how to change a tire. And he made the best walnut pie.” You chuckled.

“He helped raise a strong, courageous and righteous woman, who has a soul as warm and welcoming as a thousand suns. You may feel like you’re scared of losing the memories of your grandfather, but I promise you, for as long as you breathe, his love will shine through your actions.” His hand brushed over your thigh, giving you a reassuring squeeze. He got up from the couch and walked over to the kitchen, flicking the lights on as he began to rummage through the pantry.

“What are you looking for?” You asked him without getting up from the couch.

“Something.. you’ll see.” He waved you away, his head still in the pantry cabinet.

You sat back, your body melting into the soft fabric of the couch. As your mind begins to wander, you find yourself being lulled to sleep by the ticks of the dining room clock. Unbeknownst to you, Pedri set the dusted book down on the coffee table, hoping that you’ll find comfort in it, once you woke up.

A few hours had passed when you began to stir awake from your sleep. The house looked different. The sun was shining lower in the sky, the air was colder and sharper, and you were hungry, very very hungry. You looked around the room, only to be met with silence, and darkness. A similar smell passed you by, a smell that reminded you of home. Walnuts, butter, brown sugar…

“Pedri?” You got up from the couch, making your way across the house.

“Bathroom!” He yelled out, meeting you halfway in the hallway. “How’d you sleep?” He kissed the top of your head gently.

“Not bad…that couch is insanely comfortable.” You buried yourself against his chest, arms hanging around his waist.

“I’m glad, my love. I have good taste in furniture.” He hyped himself up, wiping away his hands from the excess lotion. His hand found yours, dragging you to the bedroom. Out on the bed, lay a pair of pjs.

“Why don’t you get changed and meet me on the couch in a few? Mh?” He left you alone to get changed, his scent hanging in the air as he exited the room. You sat on the bed, the task of getting out of these clothes seeming impossible. You had never particularly liked this specific pair of pants, nor the shirt, but they were your grandfather’s favourites. You closed your eyes as you took off the shirt, the fabric heavy in between your hands. Your skin felt hot and cold at the same time, confusing feelings taking over. Would you ever be able to wear these clothes again? You fiddled with the garments before throwing them at the back of your closet, choosing to avoid the issue. The pyjamas Pedri had laid out felt plush and soft against your skin, like a built in hug that never faltered.

You met him back on the couch, his head turning at the sound of your feet against the floor. He extended his hand out to you, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you. You plopped down next to him, your head resting on his shoulder.

“I made something for you while you were asleep.” He handed you a plate where laid a slice of pie…a walnut pie. Walnuts, butter, brown sugar… You took a whiff of the dessert, your heart swelling with gratitude. You grabbed the spoon, digging carefully into the slice. The flavours exploded in your mouth, memories flooding your mind.

“I… don’t know what to say, Pedri.” You said, setting down the plate on the coffee table. “It’s exactly how he used to make it.” You hid your sob. “How did you know? How do you have the recipe? He never wrote it down for anyone.” Your voice choked up.

He knelt down to pick up the dusted book.

“When he got the diagnosis that the cancer had spread, he came to me. We got to talking, and he explained to me how cooking together was an activity that meant a lot to the both of you. We got to work together, creating a cookbook of all the recipes he wished to pass down to you. There’s about…every recipe you guys have ever cooked together, as well as family recipes. He made me promise to give you the book only after he passed.” He handed it to you, the weight of the book taking you by surprise.

Your fingers traced the fine engraving on the leather jacket, the title making your heart clench. ‘The Best Granddaughter’s Guide to Cooking’. You fought back the tears as you began flicking through the pages, your heart swelling with every turn of the page. There, in all its glory, was the walnut pie’s recipe. In writing, in physical form for you to keep for the rest of time. You looked back at Pedri with glossy eyes, a thankful smile on your lips.

“Thank you.” You whispered, a knot in your throat.

As you continued to flick through the heirloom, your eyes caught the pictures added to each recipe. Pictures of birthdays, monthly visits, family vacations, the first time you had ever cooked with your grandfather. Your favorite picture was the one where you were sitting on his lap pretending to read the newspaper in a language you had no knowledge of.

It then dawned on you, that your grief would always follow you. Grief was indeed love that has nowhere to go, but it was the ultimate act of love you could show someone who meant so much to you. Some days would be easier, some wouldn’t, but as time would go on, you’d learn to live with the loss, turning it into an eternal symbol of love for your grandfather. You were mad at life for putting you in this position, but it was undeniably a guaranteed cost of being alive and loving.

[spongeyspot]

can I please have some Arthur Morgan headcanons? here’s some ideas for it

His experience at a target

getting a little treat after a hard day of work

being a passenger princess

basically following his new “caretaker” around while he figures out the modern world.

1890s!Arthur being thrown into the modern world HC

A/N: I'm gonna go with the last two bc I find it so funny. ALSO: I should clarify, that this isn't a relationship hc. The reader (You/yours pronouns) is g/n, and Arthur becomes their roommate

(And they were roommates...)

Arthur Morgan was in the blast zone of Francis Sinclair's time machine and accidentally hitched a ride to the year 2023.

- Gets hit by (your) a car when he wandered into the street

- It took him quite a bit to come to terms that this place was not the one he once knew

- Wants to get home so badly, but it seems he's stuck. He can't find Vincent Sinclair anywhere.

- He seeks out your help and at first, when he explains his predicament, you think he's a crazy homeless guy

- He tries to go off on his own to figure things out but comes back immediately because things have changed so much from the place he once knew.

- He also almost got hit by another car

- You decide you want to show Arthur the finer things in life, first starting with getting vaccinated... God knows how many diseases Arthur would be exposed to, let alone the ones he already has.

- Also a toothbrush because his breath is probably rancid

- He sleeps on your couch for a while

- eventually moves into your spare bedroom and starts having to pay some of the rent

- He'd have to work under the table because his birth certificate says he was born in 1864...

- Probably gets a job with Construction or Bartending

- Also, clean slate? No Bounty! Hell yeah!

- tends to follow you everywhere because he likes how you explain modern life to him

- You got him a cell phone.

- He's never trying to be funny when he asks questions

- "What the hell is a "tik-tok"?"

- "Blue-tooth? Never heard of that, only gold ones... I used to sell em'."

- "And you can just.. talk to this? And it'll bring ya food?? Whenever ya want???"

- holds the phone pinched between two fingers on either side like he's holding a pair of dirty underwear and starts to yell at it that he wants some steak

- Absolutely blown away by pizza

- Astonished when he sees no horses, just giant metal boxes with wheels that seem to move on their own.

- When you explain how it worked and what it was, he called it a "magic stagecoach" for a while

- Passenger princess

- fascinated by modern music. It just comes out of your magic stagecoach with the press of a button?

- Huge Bon Jovi fan. his favorite song is "Wanted Dead or Alive".

- asks "What does this button do?" seconds before he presses it

- holds the "oh shit" handle in your car at all times.

-The first time he was in your car he probably actually screamed

- you got him an electric beard trimmer for Christmas and he acted like you handed him a gold ingot

- quite honestly starts to warm up to the domestic life. having to rob and steal to keep himself alive weighed on him way more than he liked to admit.

- adores movie nights. Movies in the 1900s-2023 are incredibly different than the motion pictures he was used to.

- after he gets used to this new world, he WANTS A MOTORCYCLE SO BAD but opts for a pickup truck instead because it's more convenient

- Insists on cooking dinner on the weekends

- didn't understand your gas stove the first time and he almost blew up your apartment

[ohdorothea]

More information about the bracket here. Lyrics for both songs under the cut.

A playlist with all the songs from this round (except the unreleased songs) can be found on Spotify and Apple Music. Happy voting <3

Wonderland lyrics

Flashing lights and we

Took a wrong turn and we

Fell down a rabbit hole

You held on tight to me

'Cause nothing's as it seems

And spinning out of control

Didn't they tell us don't rush into things?

Didn't you flash your green eyes at me?

Haven't you heard what becomes of curious minds?

Oh

Didn't it all seem new and exciting?

I felt your arms twisting around me

I should have slept with one eye open at night

We found wonderland

You and I got lost in it

And we pretended it could last forever

Eh

We found wonderland

You and I got lost in it

And life was never worse but never better

Eh eh

Eh eh eh eh eh

In wonderland

Eh eh eh eh eh

In wonderland

Eh eh eh eh eh

In wonderland

Eh eh eh eh eh

In wonderland

So we went on our way

Too in love to think straight

All alone or so it seemed

But there were strangers watching

And whispers turned to talking

And talking turned to screams

Oh

Didn't they tell us don't rush into things?

Didn't you flash your green eyes at me?

Didn't you calm my fears with a Cheshire cat smile?

Oh

Didn't it all seem new and exciting?

I felt your arms twisting around me

It's all fun and games 'til somebody loses their mind

But darling, we found wonderland

You and I got lost in it

And we pretended it could last forever

Eh

We found wonderland

You and I got lost in it

And life was never worse but never better

Eh eh

Eh eh eh eh eh

In wonderland

Eh eh eh eh eh

In wonderland

Eh eh eh eh eh

In wonderland

Eh eh eh eh eh

In wonderland

I reached for you but you were gone

I knew I had to go back home

You searched the world for something else to make you feel like what we had

And in the end in wonderland we both went mad

Oh

We found wonderland

You and I got lost in it

And we pretended it could last forever (last forever)

Eh eh

We found wonderland

You and I got lost in it (got lost in it)

And life was never worse but never better (never better)

Eh eh

We found wonderland

You and I got lost in it (wonderland)

And we pretended it could last forever (in wonderland)

We found wonderland

You and I got lost in it (wonderland)

And life was never worse but never better

In wonderland

Midnight Rain lyrics

Rain

He wanted it comfortable

I wanted that pain

He wanted a bride

I was making my own name

Chasing that fame

He stayed the same

All of me changed

Like midnight

My town was a wasteland

Full of cages, full of fences

Pageant queens and big pretenders

But for some it was paradise

My boy was a montage

A slow motion, love potion

Jumping off things in the ocean

I broke his heart 'cause he was nice

He was sunshine

I was midnight rain

He wanted it comfortable

I wanted that pain

He wanted a bride

I was making my own name

Chasing that fame

He stayed the same

All of me changed

Like midnight

It came like a postcard

Picture perfect shiny family

Holiday peppermint candy

But for him it's every day

So I peered through a window

A deep portal, time travel

All the love we unravel

And the life I gave away

'Cause he was sunshine

I was midnight rain

He wanted it comfortable

I wanted that pain

He wanted a bride

I was making my own name

Chasing that fame

He stayed the same

All of me changed

Like midnight

Rain

He wanted it comfortable

I wanted that pain

He wanted a bride

I was making my own name

Chasing that fame

He stayed the same

All of me changed

Like midnight

I guess sometimes we all get

Just what we wanted, just what we wanted

And he never thinks of me

Except when I'm on TV

I guess sometimes we all get

Some kind of haunted, some kind of haunted

And I never think of him

Except on midnights like this

Midnights like this

[sarawritestories]

Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again

Cassian X Fem Reader

Summary: Life isn't worth living without your mate by your side.

A/N: I'm making my angsty mood everyone else's problem. 😘 I also got misty eyed writing this

Content Warning: PLEASE READ CAUTIOUSLY Suicidal Ideation, Self Harm, suicide attempt, Death of a Main Character. Grief

ACOTAR MASTERLIST

Title inspired by this song:

You couldn't escape him. Every where you turn, it was as though he was there. His scent, his clothes, his weapons it was suffocating. Cruel. Two years. You only had two years with Cassian before he fell in battle. Two years with your mate.

How cruel the mother was two years of stolen kisses, late night snacks, morning runs, and his constant need to have his arms around you. With him, you were safe, loved, and cared for.

You had begged him not to leave to stay home with you. He simply pressed his forehead to yours and whispered, "I promise to come home to you, Sweetheart." You sobbed as he pressed his lips to your and then kissed your tears away, "I am the General of the Night Courts armies. I have been to many battles and have always come home. I will come home to you sweet girl." Another soft kiss, "I love you."

With a wobbly lip, "And I love you. Be safe." You hand him the necklace that he gave you for solstice of an eight pointed star. He wrapped the chain around his neck and took to the skies.

When Rhys and Azriel returned, your eyes searched everywhere for flashes of red. Only to notice Cassian's brothers had streaks on their mud ridden and bloodied faces from where they shed their cheers. It was Rhys who held out his hand, and you hesitantly took it. He held your palm up and placed something cold in it when he moved his hand, the eight pointed star necklace caked in dirt, and blood stared back at you. Shock riddled your body as Rhys said in your mind, I'm so sorry, Darling

Shaking your head, you clung the necklace to your chest. You found it difficult to breathe as you reached through the bond. Calling out for him, only to find the other side empty. Hollow. Hands were on you as you collapsed to the floor and sobs overtook your body. Still pushing love down the bond, only to be met with cold, dark air where his warmth and love used to be. You screamed, "Cassian!" Over and over until your voice became dry and you ended up dehydrated.

Az scooped you in his arms and brought you to your bed where the faint scent of Cassian remained and a fresh wave of tears came. What if the smell faded? Would your memories of his smile, his eyes, his long, onyx hair be gone too. Az just sat and held your hand until your sobs turned into hiccups and exhaustion pulled you into sleep.

After two months, you were finding it hard to get out of bed. The necklace tucked to your chest, wearing one of his shirts, and you still reached out to the dulled golden string. You hoped that it was a bad dream.

Rhys and Az would alternate taking care of you, making sure you were fed and made sure you stayed hydrated they had a schedule and a pattern that you picked up on.

You had overheard them talking about trying to get you out and into society again. You barely saw the point, your mate was ripped away from you, and now, colors were dull, music fell flat, nothing was worth seeing without Cassian.

You sat up from your bed and sighed, and you wanted him hear in your arms in. You wished that he would appear again. You hung your head low because you knew that was wishful thinking and that he would never come back.

You pulled something out of the dresser on his side, trying to fight the tears as a fresh wave of his leather and Sandalwood scent flooded your nose. You headed to your bathroom, placing the Star pendant around your neck. Not noticing the tendril of black watching your movements. You whispered to the void, "Az, Rhys, Please forgive me. Mother, please take me home to my mate."

You took the knife, and pressed it to your skin, Az and Rhys hadn't noticed the faebane you stole from Rhys' office that you took in concentrated doses to slow your healing. You watched as the blood pooled against your wrist as you dug the blade deeper to drag down.

You heard the door slamming open and hurried footsteps to the bathroom, "Y/N!" Az shouted as he grabbed the knife from your hand had a shadow bring him a towel to wrap around the wound. He pressed your back to his chest and held you close whispering words your couldn't distinguish in your ear.

You blinked. Once. Twice. Three times and anger bubbled over. You began to thrash in his arms his strength out matched yours. "You bastard, I wanted to go home to my mate! I don't want to be here without him! Why would you do that? Let me die!" Your screams turned into cries, "I just want to die."

Rhys walked to face you, tears streaking his own face. "Darling. He wouldn't want that for you."

You sobs continued, "What about what I want?" Your voice cracked. You leaned your head back against Az shoulders. "Why did the mother have me meet my mate only to take him away. I only had two years. You both had centuries." The cries turned to whimpers, "It's not fair." Az began to rub soothing patters around your waist. "I wanted more time."

The two males had no words, so they both just sat on the floor with you and let you sob. Your constant murmuring of time stolen and wanting to be with Cassian.

And once you had cried yourself to sleep, did Az and Rhys have madja heal your arm and place you in Az's bed, both agreeing that you were not to be left alone for a while. The two males watched you sleep with a crease between your brows.

And even in your sleep, you tugged on the fading gold thread. Never knowing that somewhere in the afterlife, The General was desperately tugging back.

[dilf-din]

Everyone Knows You’re the Way to My Heart

Frank Castle X Karen Page

Rating: T

WC: 950

Warnings: typical self loathing Frank, sleep paralysis, angst & fluff

Author’s note: these pictures are cute but the vibe is not lmaoo but I will be writing more moments like this in the future and I wanted there to be a coherent heading so this is what I went with. Title is from Punisher by Phoebe Bridgers. My brain is consumed by them byeeee 🫶🏼

Read on AO3

Frank’s heart beat in his chest like a war drum, fitting for a man like him. Entranced he moved slowly forward, bullets flying in slow motion around him, bodies hitting the ground with echoing thuds. Everything was muffled, out of focus. He wasn’t in control of his limbs, being pulled magnetically forward until he recognized the looming outline of the merry go round. The carnival music slowly permeated his psyche. Heart beating inhumanly hard as he wished it would explode out of his chest and end this.

He tried to fight, but it was as if his arms were bound by some invisible force. He opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out. Pressure compounded on him until he was sure he would be crushed. Frank fought to turn his head away from the scene unfolding before him, but the muscles in his neck stayed locked, forcing him to watch.

Then a voice cut through the chaos, like sunlight slicing through an overcast sky to remind him that the storm isn’t permanent. His panicked eyes shot open, blinking away the haze.

“You okay?” Karen asked softly, a gentle hand sliding over his bare shoulder and down to his heart where his hand rose to clutch it tightly.

“You’re shaking,” she reached her other hand to cradle his jaw and draw his gaze to hers. Her brows were drawn together in concern, but the rest of her presence radiated peace for his troubled mind.

Frank’s breath heaved through his nostrils, and he looked at her wildly, like a rabbit caught in a trap.

“In through your nose, out through your mouth,” she coached him gently, drawing a deep breath in with the hopes that he would mirror her.

He wished he could tell her that his jaw was wired shut. He wished he could cover her body with her own to shield her from the firefight. He wished he could do anything, say anything.

Tears careened down his cheeks quickly. All he could do was blink while he sat paralyzed.

“I don’t know what to do for you,” Karen said quietly, desperately, her thumb still stroking his cheek and brushing away the never ending stream of tears.

Frank’s eyes searched for hers. He bathed in the compassion and desperation he found there, poured it like gasoline over the fire in his chest.

The muscles in his shoulders twitched as he fought against the chains in his mind, fought his way back to her.

Another minute passed in total silence apart from Frank’s labored breaths. The chains started to lose their grip. His biceps twitched, and Karen moved her hand from his jaw down to the arm farthest from her. Her right hand still sat locked in his grip against the slowing hammer of his heart.

She rubbed long calming strokes over his spasming muscles until the frenzy subsided. With a gasping breath, he opened his mouth and exhaled hard, jolting to the side and further into Karen’s embrace.

“Sh-shit,” he stuttered out.

Karen pulled him against her chest, rubbing his shoulder and back and she murmured against his temple, “I’m here.”

“I couldn’t move. I—“ he swallowed hard. “Jesus Christ, it’s like I was stuck.”

“Sleep paralysis,” Karen said softly.

“Huh?” Frank upturned the corner of his lip in confusion.

“When you can’t speak, can’t move, and it feels so real, it’s not a normal nightmare. It’s sleep paralysis.”

Great. Another fucking level of hell for him to deal with, for both of them to deal with. As if the normal nightmares hadn’t been bad enough, though they had dwindled since the two of them started sharing a bed. Every time he thought he was making progress, he fell ass first back into the mud beneath him.

Frank suddenly felt microscopic, like a bug scrambling underfoot in a room full of people in combat boots.

“Shit. I’m sorry,” he started to move away from her. “I know you’ve got that meeting in the morning. I’m fine, Kare,” he punched his pillow a bit to adjust it.

“Frank.” Her voice was even, but he winced anyway as he settled on his shoulder facing away from her.

“I’m not mad that you woke me.”

He settled into silence, tensing his muscles and biting his tongue to ensure he didn’t drift off and risk waking Karen again. Saintly, sweet Karen whose patience was sure to be running out at any moment. He wanted this to last as long as possible before he inevitably let it slip through his fingers like he always did. She wasn’t just the first good thing he had in a long time, Frank was afraid Karen Page would be the last good thing ever sent his way in this life. People like him didn’t get second chances, and they sure as hell didn’t get third or fourth ones.

He heard the sheets rustle over his shoulder as she readjusted, sliding flush against the heat of his back and lacing an arm around his waist. Her slender hand pressed flat against his lower abdomen, and her thumb lightly rubbed the skin above his navel. It was impossible for the tension to not melt away under her touch. She pressed a lingering kiss to the top of his shoulder and settled deeper into the mattress.

Frank felt his throat tighten, willing himself not to get used to this again. Life was easier when you had nothing to lose, but when he heard her breathing descend into tiny snores as her exhales puffed against his back, he couldn’t imagine lying down at night without her beside him, and it scared the shit out of him.

[meiplays]

*photos belong to original creator*

“Beneath the Velvet and Dust” 🥀🌹

Phantom!Sam Winchester x Reader | AU | SFW but Steamy | Obsessive Longing | Tragic Romance | ~2.7k words

Inspired by Phantom of the Opera (2004 Gerard Butler) with full Sam-coded angst and yearning.

Summary: Drawn to a long-abandoned opera house, you come face to face with a ghost from your past—one who’s waited in the shadows, haunted by your voice and the memories you left behind. A dark, romantic reunion unfolds beneath candlelight and forgotten music.

AN: Phantom!Sam Winchester would be so hot.

The air was thick with dust and longing.

You stepped into the shattered bones of the once-grand opera house, boots echoing on cracked marble. A scent like old velvet and wax clung to every surface. Moonlight spilled through broken windows, catching on suspended motes like stars frozen mid-fall.

He was here.

You felt it like a pull deep in your chest. No EMF spike, no signs of a spirit. Just something older. Something yours.

Then—

A low note.

Soft. Lingering.

A piano, buried in shadow, sang from somewhere beyond the stage.

Your breath caught.

You followed it down a corridor, your fingers brushing faded red wallpaper, until a doorway appeared where none should be. The hinges groaned as you pushed through. Beyond it—candles. Dozens. Flickering along the edge of the massive, ruined stage. It glowed like a shrine.

And there, standing at its center, waiting like he'd known you'd come—

Sam.

Or the ghost of him.

Tall. Silent. Half his face masked in cracked porcelain. His long coat rippled as he turned slowly, deliberately. The flamelight caught the gold in his eyes—haunted and burning.

Your throat closed. “Sam?”

A long pause.

“You remembered.”

His voice was deeper than you remembered. Worn smooth with solitude. Laced with something darker—possession wrapped in reverence.

You stepped closer, cautiously, your voice trembling. “It’s really you.”

“I never stopped being me,” he said softly. “But the rest of the world stopped seeing me. Except you.”

He moved forward slowly, one step at a time, gaze locked on yours. You should’ve backed away. You didn’t.

“You left,” you whispered. “You vanished and I—I looked for you everywhere. Dean thought—”

“I know,” he cut in. “I watched you. Heard you calling for me in the dark. Your voice was the only thing that kept me from disappearing completely.”

You froze.

His hand rose, hovering beside your face—not touching, but close enough that you could feel the warmth.

“I dreamed of you every night. Hunted your voice like it was the last thread of reality I had left.” His gaze dropped to your mouth. “Sing for me.”

“I—I haven’t in years—”

“Sing for me,” he repeated, lower, rougher.

You swallowed.

So you did.

Just a few lines of that old lullaby—the one you used to hum on the road, back when the world made sense. His eyes shut, jaw tense like he was trying to hold something in. A breath, a sound, a scream.

When you stopped, his lashes lifted slowly.

And you realized something awful.

He wasn’t just happy to see you.

He needed you. Starved for you.

You barely had time to speak before he crossed the final distance between you and pulled you into his arms.

You gasped as his body met yours—broad, solid, and shaking.

“I’ve waited years for this,” he rasped into your ear. “For you.”

His hands pressed firmly against your back, holding you like you’d disappear if he let go. You could feel his heartbeat hammering through layers of tailored black.

“Sam…”

“You belong here.”

Your breath caught.

His face tucked into your neck, nose brushing your pulse, inhaling like he was memorizing you from the inside out.

“Say you missed me.”

You didn’t hesitate.

“I missed you.”

A trembling exhale escaped his lips.

“I would’ve burned the world to hear you say that,” he said hoarsely.

Then, music.

You hadn’t seen him press a key, but somehow, the soft swell of piano rose around you again, echoing through the rafters like the building itself wept with relief.

He took your hand and placed it on his chest.

“Dance with me.”

You nodded.

He guided you slowly, one hand pressed against the small of your back, the other clasping your fingers with a grip too firm to be gentle—but not cruel. Never cruel.

You swayed, your bodies so close it was hard to breathe without inhaling each other. His touch was reverent, but desperate. Like someone who’d imagined this moment so many times, he was afraid it would vanish if he blinked.

Your voice trembled. “What happened to you, Sam?”

His lips grazed your temple. “I was too much. Too broken. I couldn’t be the man you deserved.”

“You still are.”

He stopped dancing.

Held you tighter.

“I’m not,” he whispered. “I’ve done things. Let things inside me. Things that sing through my bones when the world is quiet.”

You looked up, searching his face, fingers rising to trace the cracked edge of the mask.

He flinched—then didn’t stop you.

You pulled it gently away.

And saw him.

He wasn’t monstrous.

Just scarred. Worn. Beautiful in the way something holy looks after surviving hell.

His breath hitched. “I didn’t want you to see that.”

“I needed to.”

You reached up and pressed your forehead to his.

“You’re still mine.”

His mouth parted like that broke something in him.

And then he kissed you—not soft. Not tender.

Hungry.

His mouth crushed against yours with a groan that sounded like it came from the depths of his soul. His hand tangled in your hair. His body trembled like he was holding himself back from sinking into you entirely.

When he pulled back, his lips were red and parted.

“I’ve waited so long,” he whispered, voice breaking. “Tell me this is real.”

You kissed him again, arms wrapping around his neck.

“It’s real.”

His hands dragged down your back, breath ragged. “I want to lock this moment away. Keep it under my skin. If I wake and you’re gone again—”

“I’m not leaving.”

A pause. His grip loosened slightly.

“You should.”

You shook your head. “No.”

“I’m dangerous now,” he warned. “What I’ve become—”

“I don’t care.”

Lightning cracked outside.

You kissed him again, slower this time. Pressed your palms to his chest.

“I came for you, Sam. I chose you.”

He buried his face against your neck again, holding you with something that felt like worship.

Then the music quieted.

The candles still burned.

And the man they all thought was gone held you like he’d found the last light in his darkness—and he would never let it go again.

~

[leonw4nter]

hii could you do some re2r leon hcs abt him dating a figure skater? love your fics smm <33

RE2R!Leon Headcanons on dating a figure skater!

RE2R!Leon x GN!FigureSkater!Reader (Also my first request ever!! Thanks anon &lt;33)

RE2R!Leon who would drive you to and from practice everyday if he was free. He also offered to massage your sore arms and legs at the end of a strenuous practice, making sure you also ate well in order to restore your energy.

RE2R!Leon who is the resident figure skating expert in the Raccoon City precinct, knowledgeable on the jumps, scoring systems, the best brands of figure skating outfits to buy from, etc. He knows all these because you explain the mechanics of your sport to him any chance you get– laying in bed at night, mid-chew of your food, when he’s driving and you suddenly remembered that you haven’t said anything in a long time today.

RE2R!Leon who would make sure to attend all of your performances, near or far. He’s willing to call in sick just to watch your performance, if the station isn’t super busy. If the station really needs him, he’ll try to catch your performance on the box TV in the break room. 

RE2R!Leon who saved up before spending the first six months of his salary to get you new skates since your old ones were barely hanging on for dear life yet you insisted they still worked just fine. The skating apparel store personnel also gave him care instructions, him taking out a notepad and jotting down care instructions. Like the thoughtful boyfriend he is, he also picked up some grease for the blades and leather conditioner.

RE2R!Leon who would be the loudest person in the whole arena, the staffers and the people reminding him many times to keep the hollering down and he apologizes, even if he’s bound to do it again.

RE2R!Leon who always comes running to you with flowers in one hand, arms wide open to engulf you in a warm hug. He’s practically sobbing because he’s so damn proud of you, his camcorder full of shaky footage of you skating and him yelling. He’s got another camera in the pocket of his jacket, this time full of photos of you (some of the pictures blurry).

RE2R!Leon who nearly masters the art of styling your hair; name it and he’ll do it near perfectly (there’s always room for improvement and new ways to style your hair). Same goes for your makeup; he used to confuse concealer and foundation and now he knows which is which. He remembers the amount you use on your face and what brushes or sponges are used for each product. Sometimes, he even offers to get your brushes and sponges cleaned.

RE2R!Leon who flails his arms and tries not to fall on his ass on the cold ice when you took him out for an ice skating date. You suggested that he use the walkers that the establishment offered for newbies but he turned it down, saying he can just hold on to the side or hold on to you. After you taught, explained, and demonstrated all the moves you do for skating, he’s highly impressed and in awe especially now that he’s seeing the mechanisms up close.

RE2R!Leon who brags about his award-winning partner to the other officers in the station, showing the multitude of pictures he has of your awards. He might even show videos of your routines too, the officers complaining of slight motion sickness or not understanding anything because the footage is so shaky.

RE2R!Leon who will absolutely scream “that’s my girl/boyfriend right there!” or “see that person over there? The one in maroon! I’m their boyfriend!” to no one in particular while the people around him could care less.

RE2R!Leon who hypes you up before it’s time for him to go to the stands and for you to go in the holding area for the contestants, giving you kisses and playing upbeat music on the drive to the venue. He’s giving you so much hugs and words of encouragement, you feel your confidence spike.

RE2R!Leon who ran from the stands and tackled you, crying, when you were hailed as one of the winners. You were both in tears, laughing and smiling broadly but you swear that he cried harder than you did.

RE2R!Leon who will still come running to you with arms wide open to engulf you in a bone-crushing hug, flowers in one hand even if you didn’t place on the podium. At the end of the day, you did your best and he’s the proudest boyfriend ever. In his eyes, you’re the best skater there is and will still celebrate you no matter what.

RE2R!Leon who will listen to the song you finally found for your routine, his lovely partner seeking double approval for their music choice. That song would end up stuck in his mind for a week, even if it’s not his usual taste. While sitting in his patrol car or filing reports back, he’d randomly start humming “Hopelessly Devoted to You” or “Take My Breath Away” and giggle to himself because he remembers seeing you glide on the ice so gracefully. 

RE2R!Leon who doesn’t mind being the guy that people ask to hold their cameras so they can take a picture with you. He’s just some dude and you’re there, the topic of a nine year-old’s female sports icon essay for a subject at school.

RE2R!Leon who felt guilty when you had to pull out of a competition that takes place a state away from where Raccoon City is, flight tickets and hotel accommodation fees above what you two normally earn. He didn’t like seeing you dejected, a little farther from reaching the Olympic dream you want to achieve and sulking in your room. He promised to work harder and saved more money so he’d be able to support you financially in your dreams.

RE2R!Leon who will blast a Spice Girls or Madonna song and dance to it, making himself look stupid in front of you just to make you smile for even a little bit. Would do anything to help you get over a bad day. He’d suggest you doing his makeup to test out how a makeup look you’ve been eyeing might look; the powder is making his nose slightly itchy but he tries not to flinch so he won’t smudge the eyeliner you’re doing on him while you’re sitting on his lap, his hands resting on your waist or the small of your back.

RE2R!Leon who is your number one fan! Aside from whatever encouragement he’s showering you when you’re competing, he’s truly doing everything and more just so he can help you reach your dreams. On days that are either boring, best, or the worst, he will be there for you no matter what. He truly believes that you’re perfectly capable of being on your own but he’s thankful that you’re letting him into your life. He’s not the richest man in the world nor does he have a fat bank account but he’s doing everything in order to be able to provide for you, a small smidge of what he is willing to do for you.

NOTE - I finally finished 1/3 requests in my inbox, YEAHHH!!! I started on this one yesterday before I fell asleep, finished the rest of it while at school, and finished making the post just now :)) I've been gone for a while bc school and I'll probably be gone again for quite some time bc work is starting to pour in some more. I got a perfect score on a math drill today so I'm pretty happy about that, my (richer) classmates also organized a prom kinda thing bc we didn't get to have prom so I'm excited about that one :)) Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this headcanon and again, big BIG thank you to anon for sending this request in!!!! I hope I managed to live up to your expectations :))) I <33333 UUUUU!!!!!!!

The hanging star divider is made by @benkeibear , the images are colored by me (sourced from Pinterest).

[imhereforscm]

Scorpio—dating a Greek MC and meeting her family in Greece

Genre: fluff

Warnings: none

A/N: I received a request, asking me to write a headcanon of Scorpio with a Greek MC. 😭🇬🇷💙🤍 Which is heavily inspired from @colourless-hydrangeas 's Teorus × Desi Reader post (I adore when people insert their cultures into their self inserts, because all cultures are beautiful 😭😭❤️❤️❤️). Also, this headcanon ended up coming out as a self insert, because I am Greek lol. Enjoy!!💙🤍💙🤍

That's ⬇️ the temple of Poseidon, btw. It's located in Sounion. I've been there. It's beautiful. I was looking for the pictures I took myself, but I can't find them. So have one from Pinterest instead. 😭😭

You think Scorpio has anger issues??? Have you seen a Greek on the road???

MC's grandma will see him and say how beautiful he is and then her mom will go: "Spit him! You'll give him the bad eye!" And then grandma will proceed to say "ftou ftou" and move her three fingers in a cross motion.

If he starts yawning during dinner, people will say he has a bad eye and the grandma will call some cousin of hers for "xematiasma". Then, she'll hung up and tell Scorpio not to sleep, until the xematiasma is done, or else the bad eye will get worse. 🧿

20 minutes later—"Scorpio, my boy, shift in your chair for the xematiasma to work."

He's a new face entering a Greek household. Which automatically means, everyone screaming (like Greeks always do) and panicking, because the food needs to be a culinary masterpiece, because a Greek's pride and honour, is the ✨food✨.

Scorpio soon finds out that he can basically convince his Greek girlfriend of anything if he goes through her stomach.

His plate will be so full, the contents are rivaling the Burj Khalifa in height.

"Grandma, maybe he doesn't want to eat that much—" "Shut up. He's so THIN! And if he doesn't want to eat everything, I'll pack them in a bowl and he can take it home."

If he's coming to Greece during Easter, MC will have to warn him about the numerous stern faces eyeing him to see his first reaction to Magiritsa.

One time I ate 3-4 plates of Magiritsa in one sitting and then I slept and snored like a fucking monster. So if he doesn't want it, meh. More for me.

A grandpa who never finished elementary school and wants to teach Scorpio about the different dialects in all parts of Greece, of course, cannot be missing from this table.

EVERYONE at the table is going. "Scorpio, do you want Feta?" "Scorpio, do you want wine?" "Tzatziki?" "You ate your feta, you want more?" "You want music?" "That lazy daughter of mine forgot to give you more feta?! (Name)!! Quit eating with ten jaws and give your boyfriend some feta!"

(Name): *whispering to Scorpio*: "For the love of god, if you say you don't want any more Feta, the table will explode and the eldest will die of a heart attack. Just suck it up. Gods can eat a lot. It's okay."

And of course everyone is yelling.......... Because that's what ✨🇬🇷Greeks🇬🇷✨ do.

MC will also have to warn Scorpio before hand that, if suddenly, her grandparents start throwing plates and glasses on the floor and breaking them... He must not worry. That's how they're having fun.

If Scorpio breaks something by accident, they'll just say it's "Gouri" (good luck) and pat his arm.

Also... Lots of politics and swearing. And anger.

So much anger.

So much yelling.

Now, judging people based on their country's stereotypes is not okay........ BUT, AS A GREEK, I CAN PROMISE YOU, WE GREEKS ARE THE STEREOTYPES!! SO YOU HAVE MY BLESSINGS TO BELIEVE ANY STEREOTYPES YOU HEAR ABOUT US. BECAUSE THEY'RE ALL TRUE

"Μαλάκα" = Malaka = a Greek's favourite word to use everywhere, in any order. A word that defies grammar and gender and everything in between. ✨Malaka✨

Also, "μούτζα" = "moutza". It's basically a vulgar gesture where you keep your fingers spread and your palm out and you point it to a person....... Here's a video about it.

Plus, a big talk about Greece's history, starting from Ancient Greece and going through all the wars and the national days, our traditions and EVERYTHING.

"Idk what this useless daughter of ours has told you, but have you ever heard of the Kalikatzari that come during Christmas and cause havoc in the kitchen? So it's a Greek tale, about Jesus and—"

Scorpio will be enjoying all sorts of traditional dishes. Like. Gemista, Saganaki, pasta with Kima, SEA FOODS!!!!, a BUNCH of meat to last a lifetime, Dolmadakia, Spinach Pie, Cheese Pie, Magiritsa.

+ if he's coming during Christmas: Melomakarona and Kourabiedes.😭✨🙏✨😭 And Vasilopita😩✨

AND SOUVLAKI!!!!!!!!!!!!! IF A VISITOR DOESN'T EAT SOUVLAKI THEY'RE NOT LEAVING GREECE OMGGGGG!!!!

"Let me tell you about olives—" 🫒

Have you noticed that I'm just talking about food this whole time and Scorpio meeting her family around a table?..... What did I tell you about Greeks being all about food???

Also, if Scorpio and MC decide to leave, her mom will 10000% yell say "BRING A JACKET WITH YOU!!!" Is it 40°C outside??? Yes. Will she still tell you to bring a jacket with you??? Yes.

Basically...

We're loud.

We have WAY too much anger to fit in a mere mortal body.

Too much cheese and meat in EVERY. SINGLE. DISH.

And did I mention; WE'RE LOUD AND ANGRY!!! :DDDDDDDD

And we're BIG, HUGE foodies.

But we're welcoming. And warm. And it doesn't matter where you come from, a Greek will love to show you their culture and will consider you part of our already huge enough families the moment you learn to say "Malaka".

...

...

...

...

And they'll feed you until you pop like a bomb. :DDDDD✨✨✨✨

Until next time I want Souvlaki BYEE!!!!!😭😭🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹✨🌹✨🌹✨🌹✨🌹✨🌹✨🌹✨🌹✨🌹✨🌹✨🌹🌹❤️❤️🌹❤️🌹❤️🌹❤️🌹❤️🌹❤️🌹

HEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEH

[romiantic]

DRIVE ME CRAZY !

how your faves act after an argument

→ GENRE + WARNINGS: fluff/crack + joking of death

→ A/N: literally had sooooooooo much fun writing this cause I genuinely can see these characters like each category 😭. especially the jjk mfs

dramatic ass mfs — they are literally screaming and crying, BEGGING for you to forgive them. they didn’t mean to yell at you bae, please take them back. no but for real, please take them back, even their friends are hoping every single day that y’all make up and won’t have to hear anymore crying. they’re constantly replaying y’all arguments in their head and wishing they didn’t say what they said or did what they did. they love you so much and hate seeing you get mad at them, even over the smallest thing. you’re their heart’s lifeline and will feel like they’re goners without you by their side. they’re the embodiment of shitting, crying, sliding down the wall in slow motion, throwing up, when y/n is mad at them. please shut them up and forgive them

GOJO, deku, kaminari, atsumu, OIKAWA, yuji, kise, jean, 1610!miles, luffy, SANJI, bachira, connie, sasha, nobara, bokuto, reo, kagami

alright mr/ms. idgaf ! — these “nonchalant” ass mfs act like they don’t give a damn that y’all fought, it’s whatever. no it’s not. these mfs are literally hurting in the chest, they just know how to cover it up well that’s all it is. well, at first they will play it off as if they genuinely don’t care and continue on with their day, playing a game of “who falls first” and believing they’ll win. but as the day goes on, they feel a growing pit of pain and regret. they feel like something is missing and start to spiral when they realize they miss you too much. they can’t keep living like this and call you quickly but cover the much earlier mood by acting nonchalant. they’re pretending that they ain’t care that much, don’t believe them babes !

BAKUGO, ymir, yelena, TOJI, megumi, nanami, choso, 42!miles, geto, zoro, AOMINE, murasakibara, midorima, kuroo, osamu, rin, SAE, barou, eren, levi, maki, dabi, hawks, porco, suna, chigiri, oliver

auntie music is playing — I genuinely don’t know which is worse, them or the dramatic mfs. they start out as dramatic, begging for forgiveness but seeing that you won’t, they continue their day with dreary and sadness. they think of how they shouldn’t have done what they did and concoct a plan to figure out how to win you back, through music. I mean, a way through a person’s heart is through music, prove me wrong? exactly. they’ve stalked your music profile and gathered what you listen to on a regular day, creating a playlist off it. they think of an idea that is brilliant, so brilliant that they’re standing outside your window at two a.m. with a boombox (yes they still make those) in their hand, and “be without you” by mary j blige is playing. they’re screaming screeching the lyrics at the top of their lungs until you text them to stop and come inside. the music stops and they walk inside with quickness and ridiculously stupid smile on their face <3

CONNIE, isagi (bachira’s idea), shidou, todo, GOJO, yuji, bokuto, hinata (haikyuu), nagi, HOBIE, tanaka

i apologize a trillion times — they are in the same category as dramatic but more subtle??? I mean they’re not snot-nosed crying on instagram or posting pictures of you two with some corny music playing in the background with the captions “guys tell y/n to take me back” “I miss my bae” “I’d rather d*e than let y/n leave me”. but depending on the person, they would find any way, shape, or form to apologize. I mean anyway, through a message from an airplane, sending you ten text messages, yes ten, of long paragraphs saying that they’re sorry and they love you so much. they’ll even apologize to you through email, with the subject saying “BABY I MISS YOU”. in conclusion, they’re just “dramatic ass mfs” in a different font

kirishima, aizawa, ARMIN, choso, REINER, mikasa, onyankonpon, kunigami, akashi (knb), kuroo, iwaizumi, akashi (haikyuu), kuroko, YUTA, inumaki, miguel, gwen, shoto, usopp, ace, aran, eren, OLIVER

⭑ literally felt like gojo, connie, and eren could fit all 4 categories ngl 💀

⭑ okay but the amount of fun I had making this-

𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐏 💗: Psalm 139:14

MULTI FANDONM MASTERLIST + MAIN MASTERLIST

© 𝟤𝟢𝟤𝟥 𝗋𝗈𝗆𝗂𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗂𝖼. 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽

[featheredclover]

Fanaa

09

Read from the beginning

08......10

Buaji held the invite at arm’s length, her eyebrows scrunched up in a frown.

“I can’t believe that Naina is having an art show again!”

“That’s her job buaji,” Khushi flipped through the day’s newspaper.

“Oh, I’ll never understand them. You go alone this time”

“Now that I am engaged , you won’t bother?”, she teased.

“Shut up and eat your dinner!”, buaji hid a smile as she ruffled her hair.

The invite lay on the coffee table. Cream with silver embossed letters.

Kala invites you to an evening of ‘Sculpture under the stars’

———

Khushi knew Naina had outdone herself when she saw the parking of the gallery fill up upto its capacity.

Payal wasn’t kidding when she insisted Khushi ditch her car and hop into theirs. The show was already one for the books.

Music designed to incite images of Arabian nights and magic carpets greeted them, as Akash had whistled playfully, “Trust Naina to pull this off”

The sculptures were highlighted beautifully. The ceiling had swinging lights, which created such a beautiful play of lights- it had everyone gasping. 

She decided to slip away when the third couple approached Akash and Payal , before they could reach the first display. There was only so much business talk she could take in a gallery ,screaming for an immersive experience.

It was beautiful. The music. The lights. The art. 

She smiled as she drifted from one display of talent to another. They were all stunning. The attention to detail, rendering a feeling of disbelief over her.

The craftsmanship was amazing.

“Khushi!”Naina grinned,engulfing her in a hug. 

“Your face tells me everything that you feel about this! Thank you”, she whispered into her ear.

Khushi giggled, “Hardly! You have done a fabulous job, Naina”

“Go on! I wouldn’t want to stall you”

———

And that’s how she found herself moving across the gallery, as if in her own world. Khushi could see the sculptor’s effort in each. It was the best Lucknow had witnessed so far. 

It was when she was admiring the hands on a sculpture, that she felt it. A change. A glitch. Something in the air.

“You are reading it wrong”, his husky whisper set things into motion. That strange sensation in her belly, the goosebumps on her arm, the way her eyes fluttered shut and her lips parted. She was ensnared by him.

Gathering her scattered senses, Khush turned, “Meaning?”

“You are moving from art to art, without seeing it.”

“Oh really? I happen to understand the beauty of their talent. They all are so realistic”

“You see the realistic structure, but you don’t see the realism”, Arnav smiled softly, leaning away from her.

“What does that mean?” 

He clocked his head to the sculpture she was observing, “What do you see in this one?”

Khushi turned her back to him.

“These are torsos of a man and a woman. He is holding her in his arms.”

He moved closer behind her,”And?”

“The veins on the hands are so..so real. As if this was a picture”

“You don’t see the story Khushi?”

“What?”, she whispered back.

“He is a man ,Khushi. You see the grip he is holding her with? That’s a man who’s holding his woman in place. The garment she is draped in has slipped away partially. But it still conceals her. As if telling about her state of mind. She wants this, but something holds her back-“

“Holds her back?”,she was aware. Aware that her voice had dimmed down to a purr. Aware of his warmth pooling around her back. Aware of his voice which seemed to promise to take her to heaven and back.

“Overwhelming. These emotions…can be too much to handle. But she’s not moving away. She craves it as much as the man. Or maybe…”

She turned to face him again, unaware of the blush in her cheeks and glint in her eyes.

“Maybe?”

He smirked, leaning forward, “Maybe I am just getting over my head and it is really just a pair of torsos”

She couldn’t help it. Later she would think to herself, 

Which woman could?

She covered the distance between them in a blink and kissed him softly. A kiss as innocent as her.

Standing on her tiptoes, Khushi clutched the lapels of his jacket.

Arnav pulled away, cursing under his breath.

And just when she thought she had acted out of the bounds of propriety, he slipped his hand into hers and was dragging her behind the nearest copper door leading into a  narrow, dim lit hallway.

Cupping her neck, he tilted her jaw upwards.

“Khushi”

He murmured, before plunging into her mouth. 

She moaned in surprise as he kept up the pace. His tongue slipped in to pull hers into the play of their desires. 

His thumb caressed her cheek the next moment, proving to be her undoing.

Imitating him, she kissed him back. Pouncing on his lips, just like the way he did to hers, Khushi elicited a groan from him.

Her back hit the wall, as she realised he had pinned her. 

A thrill ran through her as he bit her lip, before laving it with his affection. 

When they finally broke away, breathing hard , she marveled at the truth.

Yes. Yes, it was overwhelming. Yes ,something did hold her back. And that was what everything would lead up to. What did she really know about sex?

And Arnav? The way he kissed, his age and experience? She didn’t know what that meant for her. What did she even possess in that department compared to his previous partners? Compared to Lavanya Kashyap?

Suddenly, the prospect of marriage with this Adonis bubbled up insecurities within her, she didn’t even know she had.

———

“Where were you?”, Payal asked with a pointed look.

“Er..just looking around”

“Khushi”, Payal shook her head,”Remember to reapply lipgloss after every rendezvous in the future”

Her sister winked, even as she stilled in shock.

“It’s okay, Khush! You’ll learn”

Groaning internally, she looked away. 

Her eyes clashed with Arnav as he sipped amber liquid from a whiskey glass. Leaning against the wall, he was surrounded by men and women of his stature. All engrossed in shop talk.

For a moment, he seemed just like a mind reader. His gaze resembled the blaze of a fire. And she was in its path. 

But Khushi didn’t know if she had the armour to protect herself from incineration

---+

Next>>>

[sludgevomit]

SludgeVomit’s Goretober Exhibition: Day 31

Snuff

Placing one hand on the door knob as the slow knock gave me a sense of exhilaration. Taking a moment to adjust the mahogany shaded tie; ensuring the knot to be its most perfect. Allowing a natural smile to express itself as the face of the Equal appeared in my vision. Examining his choice of outfit, finding pleasure in the way the fitted slacks expose the contortion of muscle. Moving inside as I invite him in, his body is so used to being in the home that he finds himself walking towards the plush sofa located past the foyer. Legs wide apart as he sits, trying to assert any form of dominance. Even when the two of us know that I will always take control in the end.

Sitting besides him while motioning towards the selected arrangement of manila folders and recorded tapes. Grazing each one with my fingertips as I exclaim to the other man that he is allowed to pick one with jest and surprise. Only being given random numbers that strayed from the normal order. Moving my hand to his upper back, gripping the strained tissue as he carefully chose the folder and corresponding video to #286. Letting out an oddly calm laugh I pick up the items. Handing him the printing information while setting up the overused VHS.

Biting my lip in an unsurprising manner when the familiar sound of the Equal’s beloved belt buckle sprang open. Allowing the silent air to be replaced with my words telling memories of the once favorite Pet that was now used for sinister financial gain. Turning away from the screen as the picture appeared, finding the open spot next to the half naked man. Observing the way he played with himself as he read through the notes expressing the Treatment the Pet was given.

Not once removing my attention from him, even as I dispersed myself of my own clothing. Both of us begin to only now glance at the television when the composition of electronic music combines with the Pet’s final screams. Taking the moment of distraction as a chance to push my weight onto the Equal. Finding our positions to be on the ground as the other tried to put up a rather dull fight. Erection bouncing in the struggle, lightly poking the tufts of hair on my lower abdomen. Moving with animalistic intent to sink myself deep inside him. Spit flying past gritted teeth as his hole deliciously clenched around my cock. Thrusting with ease as adrenaline possessed me, leaning my head over his to attach our lips. Tongues coming together in a slick mess as beads of sweat drip down my back.

[geffenrecords]

2nd physical media collection update... for i am nothing if not the hoarder... smiles

everything minus books (too many) and records (too few) listed below

TAPES:

a recounting of the pearl harbor attack

so far, so good, so what! - megadeth

the four seasons - vivaldi

concerti - vivaldi

hangin' tough - new kids on the block

piano concertos - tchaikovsky, lizt

symphonies no. 40 in G minor - mozart

defenders of the faith - judas priest

flute sonatas - bach

highlights from the phantom of the opera musical

days of future passed - the moody blues

doomsday for the deceiver - flotsam and jetsam

st elmo's fire, original motion picture soundtrack

i do not want what i haven't got - sinead o'connor

sunrise on the sufferbus - masters of reality

diary - sunny day real estate

nevermind the bollocks, here's the sex pistols - sex pistols

destroyed - sloppy seconds

killing is my business... and business is good! - megadeth

synchronicity - the police

spreading the disease - anthrax

delirious nomad - armored saint

this is johnny cash

natural born killers, original motion picture soundtrack

diary of a madman - ozzy osbourne

fantastic - wham!

garage days rerevisited - metallica

VHS

metallica: year and a half in the life of...

cliff 'em all (both of these tapes are the originals my dad bought when they came out, which he gave to me :) )

BBC walking with dinosaurs

dead poets society

the lost boys

flatliners

family values tour '98 (i actually gave this one to my sibling, but its still in the picture. whoops)

star wars: attack of the clones

aliens

the terminator

hackers

CDS

the black parade - my chemical romance

danger days - my chemical romance

american idiot - green day

21st century breakdown - green day

in love and death - the used

may death never stop you - my chemical romance

baby one more time - britney spears

life on the murder scene, movie and soundtrack

dookie - green day

nimrod - green day

nevermind - nirvana

uno!, dos!, tre! - green day

nirvana, greatest hits

weezer (blue)

selfish machines - pierce the veil

collide with the sky - pierce the veil

three cheers for sweet revenge - my chemical romance

from under the cork tree - fall out boy

teens of denial - car seat headrest

in utero - nirvana

licensed to ill - beastie boys

lost and found - mudvayne

what it is to burn - finch

slipknot, first album

no strings attached - nsync

infinity on high - fall out boy

fallen - evanesence

weezer (green)

mellon collie and the infinite sadness - the smashing pumpkins

tallahassee - the mountain goats

bleach - nirvana

in the areoplane over the sea - neutral milk hotel

the downward spiral - nine inch nails

facelift - alice in chains

placebo

(this is around where i turned 16, you'll notice a shift lol)

smash - the offspring

dirt - alice in chains

peace sells... but who's buying? - megadeth

garage days rerevisisted - metallica

folie a duex - fall out boy

spit - kittie

the devil put dinosaurs here - alice in chains

alice in chains (self titled)

incesticide - nirvana

hot fuss - the killers

american beauty / american psycho - fall out boy

among the living - anthrax

oops!... i did it again - britney spears

...and justice for all - metallica

let's knife - shonen knife

kill 'em all - metallica

ride the lightning - metallica

lithium / been a son / curmudgeon - nirvana

you brought me your bullets, i brought you my love - my chemical romance, copy that my dad handmade :)

no prayer for the dying - iron maiden

unplugged in new york - nirvana

killing is my business...and business is good! - megadeth

enema of the state - blink-182

take off your pants and jacket - blink-182

pretty hate machine - nine inch nails

screaming for vengeance - judas priest

fabulous disaster - exodus

let go - avril lavigne

metallica - metallica

master of puppets - metallica

hidden treasures - megadeth

dude ranch - blink-182

there be squabbles ahead - stolen babies

twilight, original motion picture soundtrack (i litr dont remember why i bought this ? lol)

neighborhoods - blink-182

south of heaven - slayer

blink-182 - blink-182

angst - kmfdm

adios - kmfdm

never mind the bollocks, here's the sex pistols - sex pistols

hybrid theory - linkin park

the lion and the cobra - sinead o'connor

seasons in the abyss - slayer

reign in blood - slayer

meteroa - linkin park

toxicity - system of a down

jar of flies - alice in chains

core - stone temple pilots

louder than love - soundgarden

ultramega ok - soundgarden

korn - korn

life is peachy - korn

follow the leader - korn

deathconciousness - have a nice life

no more tears - ozzy osbourne

rust in peace - megadeth

system of a down - system of a down

s&m - metallica

unplugged - alice in chains

artwork - the used

issues - korn

misfits - misfits

asia - asia

randy rhoads tribute - ozzy osbourne

ke*a*h*** (psalm 69) - ministry

practice what you preach - teastament

faster than the speed of night - bonnie tyler

christmas collection - carpenters

the dark - metal church

spinal tap

boogadaboogadaboogada - screeching weasel

DVD

IT (1990)

IT (2017)

IT chapter two

ready or not

beetlejuice

glee season 1 & 2 (listen...)

jaws

the secret of nimh

jurassic park 1, 2, 3

metalocalypse seasons 1-4

flatliners

the lost boys

diary of a wimpy kid

aliens

alien resurrection

tmnt

the outsiders, the complete novel

trainspotting

over the edge

donnie darko

venom

jennifer's body

jackass number 2

twilight

the karate kid

the princess diaries

fight club

star wars prequels, 1-3

narnia; the lion, the witch, and the wardrobe

the osbournes, season 1

little miss sunshine

spider-man, 1-3

the amazing spiderman

elephant

kung fu panda

star wars, original trilogy

the polar express

scream

heathers

surf's up

bowling for columbine

hackers

a clockwork orange

natural born killers

terminator 2 judgment day

mysterious skin

moonrise kingdom

the world's greatest albums, green day's american idiot

that was then, this is now

jackass

suicide kings

matrix

the goldfinch

speak

the day after tomorrow

stand by me

kids

rumble fish

grey's anatomy, seasons 1-2 (again. listen...)

30 years of national geographic specials

what's eating gilbert grape?

carrie

little shop of horrors

the breakfast club, sixteen candles, weird science (john hughes collection)

bill and ted, bill and ted 2

girl, interuppted

the story of star wars

the exorcist

good will hunting

kansas

this is spinal tap

spirit: stallion of the cimarron

kalifornia

not pictured here, stuck under a stack of books, BBC's planet earth

[t0ast-ghost]

Umm STAR TREK: THE MOTION PICTURE THOUGHTS!!!!

You thought this series was dead and buried? Well maybe it is. This may stay in my drafts forever. But I suppose if you’re reading this it’s not.

Warnings for a flashing gif

and spoilers (obviously)

So enjoy and forward we go:

- They kinda just make you watch stars with nice background music for *checks time* two minutes and fifty seconds (no, there are no credits during this time)

- I’m so hyped for this, the credit music is so nostalgic and amazing

- Tron ass graphics <3

- Evolved Klingon design! Let’s go! Also they’re speaking Klingon which I think star trek is super proud of creating

- It’s so alien (as in the movie alien)

- Is that the lizard head rock from the Apple? No it’s Vulcan- damn what’d they do to Spock?

- It’s giving the dark crystal or labyrinth

- THEYVE GOT A VULCAN LANGUAGE?! I mean I knew they would but they created one for the first movie???

- When the Vulcan Master (it’s what imdb calls her) is reading Spock’s mind then the shot goes back to her face and she looks down and there’s a fucking vine boom and she smiles slightly at him like ‘THIS FUCKER IS HAVING GAY THOUGHTS’

- Jim is calling him <3

- It’s interesting how they pronounce Spock’s name differently

- Life is a Dream is my favourite song (It’s the one with the horns)

- Omg hi Kirk hi

- They gave him another Vulcan? Kirk must miss his husband so much

- imagine ten years after your favourite show ends, they make a movie and there are all your favourite guys again! I would have screamed

- Hiya Scotty

- Kirk looks so unhappy. Hmmm wonder why

- Aww this is such a cute conversation between Kirk and Scotty

- KIRK GETS TEARS IN HIS EYES SEEING THE NEW ENTERPRISE OMG. HE LOVES HER SM

- This is the slowest fucking shuttle ever

- I like how there’s just guys floating in spacesuits around

- ….Welp that’s over now. The ship has docked. Finally.

- oh the elevators are just voice controlled now. No handles.

- OMG HI UHURA!!! HI CHECKOV! HI SULU!!!

- Kirk’s about to go fire someone. This’ll be fun.

- Yeah Decker does not take this well. Kirk is just a petty bitch who loves his ship too much and definitely misses his husbands

- WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT? Wha- who- no wonder people don’t like using transporters that’s horrifying

- OMG THATS JANICE RAND!!!

- Kirk has turned into the idiot admiral that he used to hate dealing with

- OMG HIIIII BONES HES GOT A BEARD. They drafted him???? Wait no. JIM BROUGHT HIM BACK hehe

- “Damn it, Bones. I need you. Badly!” He missed his husband so he made him come back to fight a war

- That was such a normal moment between Kirk and McCoy. Sooo normal. I’m normal about it. Sooo normal.

- THAT LITTLE DUDE IN SPACE JUST DID A FLIP

- hi bones hi

- “Jim. You’re pushing.”

- They gave McCoy a better perch, he’s got a railing that’s closer to Kirk now

- time to ask: what is happening

- “Tor-pe-do away!” The slow voice really added to that

- Why is McCoy just there on his knees?!?

- Bones is NOT happy to be here. This is why he divorced Kirk (he’s still married to Spock though)

- McCoy can see that Jim is being unreasonable. But what is that stance and why aren’t they looking into each others eyes? (Edit: not sure what stance I’m talking about but yeah, why aren’t they?)

- It’s been 50 minutes literally nothing has happened except reintroductions

- HI SPOCK HIII HES SO HOT WHATS HE DOING HERE?

- damn why’d Spock just ignore Chekov like that

- Jim is so desperate. He wants this man so bad. He’s like literally starry eyed

- For Chekov this is like the worst high school reunion ever

- HI CHAPEL HAIII

- damn why is Spock ignoring his husbands :(((

- Bones looks so sad. He missed Spock

- Kirk and McCoy are about to interrogate their long gone ex husband. “Will you please sit down.” This is pretty much exactly what it would be like if they got divorced and didn’t see each other for awhile. Spock is trying to separate his emotions from the situation, McCoy is trying to be playful but sneaks in a question about what he’s been doing, and Kirk just wants them back he’s so desperate

- Not gonna say what I’m thinking cause I think that would be disrespectful

- “I believe they may hold my answers.” “Well, isn’t it lucky for you that we just happened to be heading your way?” “Bones! We need him. I need him.” Jim if you say that while staring into Spock’s eyes it’s a bit queer (happy pride month)

- They got the new Apple watches

- Spock is pulling a Deanna Troi

- They brought back Spock to wear the finest eyeshadow and serve silent cunt

- Shapes and colours by the likes of which I’ve never seen!

- I like how Bones just came onto the bridge FOR NO REASON but to kinda look shocked when Kirk was about to do something silly

- Most of this movie feels like, ‘look at this cool set/effects thing for a very long time’ and they are cool

- I now truly understand what a ‘long shot’ is

- Uh oh Kirk. Your husband got zapped!

- huh? whuh? Why’d it take Ilia?

- Everyone that comes onto the bridge takes a second to go what the f-

- Wow that’s just a pussy- *gets schmacked*

- Did Spock just fucking blue screen?

- just noticed Kirk in short sleeves <3

- ILIA BURST THROUGH THE WALL

- Why did they replicate her into high heels

- I love Star Treks idea that love can bring anyone back. Like if anyone is dead and someone loves them enough there’s no way they’re staying dead. And if you bring up Tasha, technically she didn’t die right there and then. And if you bring up Jadzia, fuck you

- What is Spock doing, why’s he mutineering

- They successfully contacted Ilia. There’s something so sad about it being her but not her at all

- Omg. Spock why would you do that?

- “That’s Spock. Damn him! Bring him back here.” Gotta wrangle your husbands

- I was going to say something about pussy and then Spock said “penetrated” so-

- Pussy so good you get blasted backwards- I’ve got to stop

- Spock laughing omg omg

- jaw dropped. That was gay. That was so gay!

- I like how Kirk just has these two guys around to explain things to him

- “It knows only that it needs, commander, but like so many of us, it does not know what.” Do you need something, Spock? What are you trying to say? Do you need the love of your husbands?

- HES JUST GONNA BLOW UP THE SHIP???

- I got legitimately jumpscared by Spock’s tear

He’s really pretty tho and they’re observing him

- “Is this all that I am? Is there nothing more?” This is the greatest moment in the whole movie thus far because it goes back to really what star trek is about. Talking about life through aliens.

- He’s bringing his husbands with him awwe

- woah how are they on top of the enterprise?!Okay I guess this is happening now

- VOYAGER??????????? Oh wait this is a real ship, isn’t it?

- So Decker is going to sacrifice himself to join with V’Ger, isn’t he?

- He rolls back to his husbands

- “As much as you wanted the Enterprise, I want this.” Jim did really want the enterprise, but he also just wanted love, same with Decker, they both just want their loves back.

- Shiny

- Kirk and McCoy staring, jaws dropped like, ‘What is this shit?’

- “And a lot of foolish human emotions, right, Mr. Spock?” “Quite true, Doctor. Unfortunately we will have to deal with them as well.” THEY’RE FLIRTING AGAIN YES!!!!

- It’s a little funny that Spock definitely arrived on the ship ready to stay. Like he cut his hair and everything just to see his husbands.

- “The human adventure is just beginning” what does THAT mean?

Well okay. Time to watch Wrath of Khan, I guess. I hear it’s better…

Masterpost