;༊

'cause i'm a selfish girl °‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡

[cloudedhouse]

time drags on / i hate him for the time he's gone

welcome to amelia's corner of the internet !! ✴︎ she/her ✴︎ 18 years of yearning ✴︎ it's about winning the points that matter ✴︎ queen of hearts rules apply ✴︎ charli xcx's number one angel ✴︎ daughter of cain

currently streaming; ⤷ for sure — ethel cain

˚⊱ taglist | get to know me | pinterest ⊰˚

[cloudedhouse]

okay so hear me out… this has been in my drafts… whay do we think….

[voidsuites]

i tried to go to ur c.ai acc and for some reason it says it doesn’t exist??? dk if it’s a me problem but like did u delete ur acc or got banned orrr??? cuz i love ur bots sm its a pity to see ur acc like this 😭😭😭

hey so i’m only going to address this here and i’m not going to do so again. read if you want to, or don’t. ⬇️

TLDR: i deleted my account— just like i said i would. it’s gone, and it’s not coming back. using generative AI is not worth the overconsumption of our drinking water and the deterioration of the environment, not to mention the psychological impact it is having on people.

this is a jar of drinking water found near a meta data center site being built in morgan county, georgia. DRINKING WATER. residents there have not had access to clean water since construction on the center began; they are experiencing reduced water pressure, they rely on bottled water to drink/cook/clean/etc., and their water bills are expected to raise about 33%. there are many more cities that are experiencing similar issues with their water along with increased electricity bills, noise pollution, etc.

AI systems were also estimated to have consumed around 765 billion liters of water last year, which is greater than the total global consumption of bottled water in that same year. that is water we no longer have all because of AI systems. allegedly, asking chatgpt 10-50 questions uses about the same amount of water as a 16 oz water bottle— but that’s not even verified because these companies are not transparent with the EPA or anyone else about how their products are impacting the environment.

all these companies are forcing AI down our throats so they can profit off of the labor and jobs they no longer want to pay for. google search now relies solely on AI to bring up search results— and not all of it is particularly accurate nor relevant. not to mention, c.ai and other sites want personal data to verify ages because CHILDREN are being harmed by using them and they don’t want to be liable for that. they do not need your ID. do not give them your ID.

nothing is worth you chatting with a bot or generating a 90s version of you made up of stolen art or having it write an three-sentence email because you can’t be bothered to respond to someone through your own words.

i’m not trying to be rude or mean here, but there’s genuinely no reason to be supporting these kinds of things with the information we have now and continue to receive each week. we have an obligation not only to ourselves, but also the environment to protect one another and our natural resources before they are gone for good. if you want a future for yourself and for those who come after us, we all have to do our part.

[loveridden1999]

when you realise you'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling

[lestatfag]

STAY SAFE!! [ID: the Gilbert Baker pride flag with the words “Happy pride to all those who are unable to celebrate openly and safely. You are loved and seen!” in all-caps black text over it. /end ID]

[castielss]

endless gifs of dean winchester - 15/∞

[anotherhawk]

Eva Stratt does NOT need a redemption arc. Eva Stratt did EVERYTHING WRONG so that no-one else would have to. Her hands are permanently stained with blood so humanity gets to keep on living.

[cloudedhouse]

lemme put y’all on real quick

[voidsuites]

WAX AND WANE: spy!tashi duncan x spy!reader. 1.5k. sfw. fem!reader.

MAKING THE CHOICE to leave was not one you made lightly. it wasn’t a whim— a fleeting thought that would disappear just as easily as it had formed in the first place— and it wasn’t made in haste. you’ve been stewing on this idea for years; you were getting out of that hellhole, one way or another.

★ … NO, DECIDING TO leave was something you’d thought about for weeks, months, years… but if you were honest with yourself, you’d admit that you’ve thought of leaving your agency from the moment you’d been sentient enough to know that what they had you do wasn’t normal. little girls grew up playing with dolls, not weapons. little girls learned the lyrics to their favorite songs, not the same words in different languages in case they were stranded in enemy territory.

little girls didn’t have enemies; however, the people that raised them did, and you were expected to do whatever necessary to ensure those enemies did not get in the way.

so when you sabotage your most recent mission— infiltrating an underground tennis betting ring to eliminate your agency’s target— your spy agency deploys the only person they know who can retrieve you and still be in one piece afterwards. sure, you’d expected the inevitable fallout and subsequent chase, but not that the girl you love would leading the hunt for your head.

“YOU GOT A HEAD START. MAKE THE MOST OF IT.”

so much for tashi letting you go. years of training together for this assignment alone, gone— not to mention the girl you thought would have your back after everything. maybe you were stupid to assume that every moment you two spent working to compete at the professional level for tennis was more than a job… but what did you know? if those american romance films you and tashi watched taught you anything, it was that love endured even through hardships and problems larger than the two of you combined.

but how much hardship was too much for even love to overcome? you didn’t know, and you weren’t going to stick around long enough to find out.

★ … THE MOMENT AFTER your text sends on your burner, it’s already in the bottom of flushing creek along with the tracker you dug out of your arm. the more distance between those and you, the better. with that settled, you run.

every bit of survival training that’s been taught, beaten, and engrained into you since you could walk comes out in full force; you take advantage of the night and its natural shadows to cover as much ground as possible all while traversing uneven concrete and asphalt in one-size-too-small sneakers. luckily, you’ve traveled under worse conditions— improper footwear paled in comparison to skimpy clothing in the snow— and you couldn’t risk the clothes you’d left in the budget hotel having trackers. anna mueller wouldn’t really miss her brand-deal trainers. adidas could send her another pair within the hour, and they would if anna’s team wanted her to have any chance against tashi in the final now that you were m.i.a. (she wouldn’t, but she could try).

you don’t stop aside for the mandatory bathroom and rest breaks, but even those are limited. every second you’re not moving is one more stretch of ground that tashi and the rest of your agency covers while try to recover you. luckily, the night passes by uneventfully, but that only leaves you with a more challenging day.

the sun, for one, poses the biggest issue, but day also means more eyes and people around you– especially in a place like new york– that could very well be sleeper agents waiting for the opportunity to yank you off the streets. if someone even stares at you for too long, you cross the street. taking the subway briefly crosses your mind, but the idea of being cornered on the train or in a station quickly changes your perspective. not worth the risk.

ideally, leaving new york is your best bet of throwing the agency off your trail. maybe you head down through pennsylvania and towards ohio to potentially find somewhere to go from there, or maybe you head up towards canada and leave the u.s. entirely. whatever option can get you away from the city faster and for cheaper is your best bet at fleeing tashi.

you just should’ve assumed that she’d already been scoping out the same outlets you were; you two always did think share the same way of thinking. but unlike you, tashi wasn’t naive enough to think she could escape. that’s why she was always the better of the two of you, always the favorite. she’d accepted the lifestyle from childhood while you still dreamt of freedom. that had always been your achilles’ heel: thinking you could get away and live to tell the tale. 

★ … “THEY’D STOP THROWING you in solitary if you just listened,” she chided one evening, the rest of the girls around you asleep on the pitiful cots you all had since childhood. it’d been right before you and tashi left for the u.s., though your supervisors were nearly set on sending another girl in your place since you’d mouthed off at dinner. while tashi had been able to convince them of keeping you for the mission, you’d still ended up spending three full days in the 6x9 solitary cell.

tashi had continued with her brief examination of you, making sure there were no noticeable injuries that would not heal before flying to the states. “you’re making it seem like you want them to do more than just hurt you,” she muttered, practicing the american accent they’d wanted you to perfect by the time you both touched down in new york in a week. “i had to vouch for you– say i’d keep you in line. you can’t keep acting like this.”

“like what?” you’d snapped back, “like a child? like i’m ungrateful– ungrateful for the mistreatment and awful things they have us do, in exchange for food and a bed?”

“like you want them to kill you,” she clarified, those sharp eyes of hers boring into yours. “you keep this up, they will. let go of whatever dream’s living in your head and wake up, глупая девчонка.”

you’d wilted under her use of “stupid girl,” but she’d kissed that pout of yours away shortly after. but nonetheless, she’d been right.

by the time the sun sets after being on the run for 24 hours, tashi’s already found you. you’re in line to board a greyhound bound for toronto with a cap slung low over your eyes, the exhaustion of being on the move all day sinking deep into your bones as you shift on your feet.

“i had to skip the afterparty for you, you know,” a voice hums from behind you, and immediately you feel your blood run cold. “adidas was throwing a whole party for the winners… we could’ve been having cake, or sneaking a beer right now before we went to find the target later tonight.”

tashi pushes closer, and you feel the distinguishable press of metal to your side. shit.

“at least if i beat you in the final, it would’ve been something worthwhile to see. anna kept up the best she could, but it wasn’t fun. not really.” 

you let tashi sidestep the both of you out of line, and your stomach sinks when the bus driver does his final boarding call. “how’d you find me–”

“don’t play dumb,” tashi sighs turning you to face her as her brow raises. “you were smart enough to toss the phone and the arm tracker, but you do know they implanted two in each of us right?”

you didn’t know, and it clearly shows on your face with the way tashi smile sharpens. “глупая девчонка,” she mutters before moving you back towards the greyhound station with a yank of your arm. “if it weren’t for the pretty face and skill when you do follow orders, you’d be in a ditch back home. now, you’ll be lucky to still be in one piece after all this.”

it finally sets in for you that this won’t be something you can walk away from– not if you’re betting on tashi and everyone else to play fair. so you won’t. 

an unmarked sedan pulls up to the curb beside you two, and tashi nudges you in and climbs in once the guard inside has a hold on you. for all you know, your agency will still have you and tashi finish out your intended mission before dealing its punishment, but there’s no time for guessing when the gps plug-in says the next destination 90 minutes away.

you’ve got an hour and a half to get out of this mess and get away; you’ve worked with worse odds. so when the backseat door of the sedan shuts behind tashi, you do the one thing you’ve never been good at doing: you listen, because someone is going to mention where that other tracker is at some point during the drive, and that’s when you’ll have your chance to get away.

and if they don’t? that’s just not an option— you have to hope they will.

do we like how i formatted this? is it cool? made the bottom two gifs myself are we gagged lol. anyways this has been in the drafts for a while… decided to shorten it a bit to put less pressure on myself lol buuuuuut if there is interest i can/will continue! there would def be more action in that. feeling mehhh about everything and the world rn but Whatever i love u guys 💗

taglist! @jclolz22 @luckygold13 @scariffs @nozhdyved @elliesmagic8 @floristicgrave @dumbbandpoetic @coochiemama3000 @gelotime @thecontrash @over-caffeinated-after-midnight @pedaltothepetal @moondrunksiren @chrattvibe @222col @sleepyrps @sinnamongirls click here to be added!

[cloudedhouse]

mike faist and florence pugh are you serious this shit was made for me

[patronsaintofweepingmothers]

"i just can't get enough" (2009), jessica wilson

[voidsuites]

i do lowk miss 2022 in that i miss the DECIDE era and how when djo dropped gloom i listened to it for 5 hours straight (12a-5a) and then that was my 2nd top song for 2022 (“running up that hill”was #1)

also i miss when “end of beginning” wasn’t everywhere lmfao why are all these people in my fucking house

[scariffs]

1.1k / sfw. kara zor-el (kara kent) and clark kent (kal-el) x gender neutral, daily planet reporter!reader. kara & clark roleswap au… reader has a crush on kara but also kal-el is weaseling his way into your heart. + masterlist.

✦ kara kent, your coworker at the daily planet who you’re 90% sure is sunshine in human form. her blonde hair doesn’t help much against the accusation, always falling around her face in a sort of frizzy, loose halo. she’s an optimist, not out of naivety but because she chooses to be one. don’t let her sarcasm and wittiness fool you: she’s a huge softie, even if she rarely admits it aloud.

✦ kara kent, who always seems to be just stumbling into the daily planet. she’s never late in the mornings, but throughout the day she almost disappears before you run into her, her hair somewhat mussed and her dress shirt ever so slightly wrinkled. the blonde just flashes you a smile, offers some flimsy excuse, then moves on as though she didn’t reappear out of nowhere.

✦ kara kent who hugs too tightly. who beams immediately when you mention anything she’s interested in, even if you’re not talking to her (her hearing is incredible). who sings along to the songs on the radio without hesitation or shame. who always knows the latest gossip, and can’t keep a secret whenever you ask her about it (maybe it’s her. maybe it’s you). kara kent whose smile could melt the artic. kara kent who loves to wriggle her eyebrows and stick her tongue out at you. kara kent who— god, you might have a crush on her.

✦ who could blame you, though? she’s funny, clever, loyal, not to mention her looks! really, she has this radiant shine to her that… well, the only other person you can imagine holding a candle to her is superwoman herself, and even then, you find yourself liking kara more. between the late night writing sessions, the morning coffee runs, and the laughs about jimmy and lois’ antics, you’ve fallen head over heels for kara.

✦ you meet her cousin later on. and, in the same day, you realize why kara and superwoman seem so similar. it’s late when it happens, one of those nights where only you and kara stay back in the office. a loud thud followed by the sound of your car alarm is what alerts you both to head outside. kent puts herself in front of you as you approach your vehicle, only to scoff when she gets close enough to see the hood of your car.

“clark,” she hisses, stepping towards the hood. at first, when you peer around her, all you can see is the damage. your hood’s destroyed, all the metal crunched in the middle. your engine’s undoubtedly fucked from the impact of whatever landed on it and your front windshield is cracked to bits, stuck in the fragile state of nearly shattering.

“clark, are you serious?” kara goes on, her hands on her hips as she scolds whatever (whoever?) landed on your car.

“kara, c’mon—” and then you saw him sitting up. a grown man, with the softest baby blue eyes and the most mischievous smile you’ve ever seen. he stretches as he straightens out, the action causing your hood to bend around his body even further with a loud creak. “relax, kara,” he reassures her, “and it’s kal-el. don’t tell me you’ve forgotten your kryptonian already after i spent all that time painstakingly teaching it to you.”

“it’s clark when you’re on earth,” she huffs out before gesturing at your wrecked car, “dude, come on! car crash landings?”

the man— clark, kal-el— simply shrugs. “i lost control when i reentered the atmosphere.”

“you need to be more careful,” the blonde insists, but she’s met with a particularly sassy eye roll.

“we can’t all be supergirls.”

“superwoman.”

he smirks. “that’s what i said.”

✦ the conversation devolves from there. the two become enraptured in their argument, so much so that you’re forgotten about completely. you can only watch as clark slides off your car, leaving the totaled vehicle behind in favor of floating towards kara, hovering in the air like a bee. his dark curls certainly match the black stripes of one, at least. he raises himself to be even taller than he already is, towering over her, but it’s not long until kara matches him, floating in the air enough so that she’s the towering one. that’s when it clicks really, the superwoman comment.

“holy shit, you’re superwoman, kara!” you gasp out, staring at them both with wide eyes. awe and confusion mix in your gaze as you look up at the hovering pair.

clark glances over at you, crossing his arms before looking back at kara. “look what you’ve done, now.”

“what i’ve done?” she snaps before pinching the bridge of her nose and sighing. slowly, she comes down to the ground, stepping closer and taking hold of both your hands. your heart rushes as she looks into your eyes, her face suddenly sincere and almost embarrassed. you’ve seen kara get shy, but you’ve never seen her actually get embarrassed; you’ve never seen her cheeks flush, her eyes darting from your own to the wall behind you and then back to your face again. “i never was good at keeping secrets from you,” she mumbles with a bit of an awkward laugh. you’re certain she’s chastising herself in her head for being so uncool in this moment, but it’s nice to see her this way. “i… yes, i am superwoman. and this is my… ridiculously irresponsible cousin, clark.”

“kal-el,” he corrects her, then floats over, lowering himself to the ground. he offers his hand, and when you take it, he smirks again. “look at you… you know, it’s people like you that make earth worth returning to,” he murmurs, then winks.

“clark!” kara barks out, swatting him and then shooting an apologetic look your way. “ignore him.”

✦ as it turns out, ignoring clark is an impossible task. especially when he keeps coming over to your place every other time he comes back to earth (how he found it is beyond you). kara keeps swinging by, too, and though she says she’s only “looking for her cousin” each time, you’re pretty sure she’s left an overnight toothbrush next to yours.

✦ as for your car, you managed to get a completely free new one when superwoman “randomly” decided as an “act of goodwill” to use some of her private funds to buy cars for several citizens of metropolis. it’s a struggle not to roll your eyes when you see kara as superwoman posed next to your new car, grinning.

“enjoy the gift,” she says, stepping closer.

you smile despite yourself. “i’m sure i will, superwoman.”

i might make a full au of this idk… i just know fwb with kal-el goes crazyyyy. but i love kara being more of a dork as a result of growing up on earth, she’s still very cool and witty but far less jaded. i love this for her. also imagining her doing work on the farm.. oh that’s my wife… like her doing manual work ugh and ofc it looks so easy with her doing it.

tagging! @nozhdyved, @voidsuites, @jadoremars, @sheriff-bodecker, @chronic-fangirl-222, @neve-naoki, @ft-winnow, @jiji2827, @futuremrscameron, @f4lin3, @hisfavoriteweepingangel, & @fangpires ✩ click here to be added!

[jordiemeow]

i always see people talking about how tashi wants control but i think it's a disservice to her character to reduce her to power-hungry bitch. she yearns for love and companionship and validation like the rest of us.

to me, her relationship with control is more like a coping mechanism for emotional instability, and it's built around a much deeper need: to be chosen and to be seen. take the lunch scene with art when she snaps "what makes you think i want someone to be in love with me?" it comes off as defensive more than anything else. she's reacting to the implication that she's desirable in a way that reduces her to an object of competition between art and patrick. what's interesting is she actually does orchestrate dynamics where people orbit her, but the second that orbit gets named as "they're in love with you," she recoils. she wants closeness but struggles with the vulnerability that comes with being clearly wanted, because then she has something to lose. and explicitly after this scene, her story DOES revolve around her losing things (her career/future and patrick.)

and i always laugh at people who dumb down the plot to "patrick loves art, art loves tashi, tashi loves tennis" because it's so much more than that. BUT that doesn't mean tennis isn't crucial to her. for tashi, tennis is the one space where outcomes are legible. you train and you put in the work and then you win or lose. love, by contrast, is contingent. after her injury (which effectively removes her from the one domain she could fully control), she redirects that same need for structure into relationships, namely with art. managing his career, shaping his identity and even mediating his rivalry with patrick at new rochelle. she's manufacturing a situation where she can't be blindsided again.

but then you have patrick, which is where the point really lands. her attachment to him years later is unresolved. he represents something she can't fully domesticate or stabilise. he's unpredictable and more importantly he sees her outside of the polished, controlled persona she builds post-injury. clinging to him isn't about control but rather the opposite. she still deeply craves a form of love that doesn't feel conditional or transactional. the tragedy is that the strategies she uses to secure love are the very things that make genuine intimacy harder to access, such as her argument with patrick in her dorm room where he rejects her critiques and asks to talk about something other than tennis. or art seemingly being afraid of quitting tennis to avoid disappointing her. she has no issue with engineering proximity but mutual vulnerability is where she ultimately falls flat.

that's why the final match is so important. it hinges on whether or not patrick will actually follow through in the way she anticipates. that uncertainty is key to her character development. patrick has always been the variable she can't lock down, and if he shows up the way she hopes, it's because he chooses to do it for her and art, not because she's manoeuvred him into it.

i think tashi being a young prodigy deepens this a lot too. she grows up as a singular talent, isolated and exceptional, whereas art and patrick had each other growing up. tashi's trajectory has always been much more solitary. so when she enters the triangle with them both, it's the first time she's encountered something with reciprocal intimacy.

which is exactly why the ending only really works if you see it as her needing both of them, not choosing one of the other. art and patrick aren't interchangeable love interests (#throuple). they represent two completely different emotional languages that she has never been able to reconcile on her own. art is stability, devotion and structure. with him, she's safe, but that safety is tied to a version of herself that's constantly performing. patrick helps her see the parts of her that exist outside of tennis before she became so tightly wound around maintaining order. so if she's just with art, she risks staying in that controlled loop forever where she's just mother and coach. pair her only with patrick, and he's too chaotic to give her the grounding she lost when tennis was taken from her.

if art represents the life she built to survive (structured, controlled and sustainable) and patrick represents the part of her that resists being reduced to that structure, then needing both of them isn't her failing to choose. it's her acknowledging that neither version of herself is complete on its own. she isn't just the disciplined prodigy or the girl who wants to be seen outside of tennis. she's both, and she's been splitting those halves across two different people because she never knew how to hold them together herself.

ironically, despite all of her shortcomings and her misconstrued reputation of being stone-cold, i think she's still the most emotionally intelligent of all three of them. she just doesn't know how to apply it to her own life. but they all need each other!! the film proves that by how rarely it actually lets them all be in the same scene. outside of the hotel scene, everything fractures into different pairs. someone is always missing. the trio is never whole again. so when they come back together in the final match, they all finally find balance. art without patrick loses friction, patrick without art loses direction, and tashi without both of them splits herself into two parts.

the point of challengers has never been who wins the game or who ends with who. it's that none of them function in isolation, neither emotionally or narratively. they're a closed circuit. when patrick catches art at the end of the match, it's the first time since that hotel room they are.

holy yap sorry i just hate this anti-tashi propaganda. let them all be messy and flawed!!

[scariffs]

0.6k + moodboard / sfw. detective!art donaldson, detective!patrick zweig, and white swan!tashi duncan x gender neutral, black swan!reader. two detectives are hired to solve a string of murders in nyc; meanwhile, two ballet stars prepare for their performance of swan lake. cws: general murder/violence mentions, nothing super graphic. + event post / (event) masterlist / (full) masterlist. this is a late bday gift for my dear friend, charlie <3

✦ READER / THE BLACK SWAN  rising ballet star. intense eyes. croons more than speaks. swift vengeance. unpredictable. sensual, seductive. hates to death. the white swan’s living weapon. older. thick, smudged eyeliner. lies, lies, lies. self-destruction. quietly lurking behind. brutal executioner. thunderstorms. scorpio placement energy. internally rotten, morally pure. white medical gauze. asks questions while already knowing the answers. subtly as soft as a swan’s down.

✦ TASHI DUNCAN / THE WHITE SWAN  rising ballet star. leisurely. teasing, curious. overly-ambitious. the black swan’s heavy heart. phone calls from mom. neat, short nails. crocodile tears. younger. morally rotten, internally pure. brains of the operation. rebirth. bright and blushing. graceful, bordering angelic. smart-mouthed. loves to death. youthful assertion. biased judge. summer rain. virgo placement energy. skin-colored band-aides. subtly as sharp as a pointed beak.

✦ PATRICK ZWEIG / THE SWAN HUNTER  fascinated by the mystery and desperate to figure out motives. half of a contract detectives duo hired by a mourning family. cigarette smoke. sporadic working hours. paid company. hardened by life. coffee stains on important documents. unorthodox methods with undeniable results. sleazy jokes. unlawful contacts. born into wealth and kicked out of it. heavy colognes. handles all altercations.

✦ ART DONALDSON / THE HUNTING DOG  born into wealth and chooses to work anyways. bark and bite. smiles that light up rooms. half of a contract detectives duo hired by a mourning family. reading as a religion. coffee with extra sugar. ballet enthusiast. light, citrusy colognes. handles all the target tracking. soft eyes, big heart. bulletin boards, pins, and red string. nail biter, hair puller. believes in justice. zweig’s personal driver. books all their rentals.

✦ THE SETTING   the big apple itself. hustle and bustle. dirty, dingy alleyways that lead to unsavory dead-ends. neighbors that call from above. subway trains that’re almost always packed. everyone’s in a hurry. ballet studios and opera houses. late 90s - early 2000s. mafia members lying low. stars on billboards rather than in the sky. the arts are dying elsewhere, but they’re alive and well here.

✦ THE PLOT   contract detective team art donaldson and patrick zweig find themselves sinking deeper and deeper into a very peculiar string of murders throughout new york city. black and white feathers are the only identifiers left at the crime scenes, earning the killer the media moniker the “savage speckled swan”. meanwhile, the nyc ballet company prepares for their rendition of swan lake.

✦ SELECT SCENES   art and patrick first reviewing the case and connecting it to several similar ones. tashi first reading about the “savage speckled swan” over breakfast (a lightly toasted bagel and some coffee). patrick stumbling into reader and tashi, who live in the same hall as art and patrick’s temporarily rented apartment. art passing by an opera house and seeing tashi and reader’s faces on posters. reader and tashi standing over a dead body in the midst of darkness; art and patrick standing over that same body the next day, as a parallel. art taking tashi and reader out to brunch, fascinated by the ballet stars. reader staring intensely at tashi from across the practice room. patrick using his shadier contacts to get information. art realizing there’s two swans, not just one speckled one: a black swan and a white swan.

✦ THE SOUNDTRACK   i want things to be beautiful by devi mccallion. coming undone by korn. falling from grace by the gentlewaves. mother mother by tracy bonham. human behavior by bjork. wicked game by chris isaak. angel by massive attack. that white cat by mitski. shadowboxer by fiona apple. that was my veil by john parish and pj harvey. carrion by fiona apple. in my room by julia wolf.

to the general audience: long time no challengers, huh? happy challengersversary! i'm not entirely sure if i want to take this piece/au any further, i do have some half-baked ideas but i mostly came here for the vibes. nothing more interesting to me than some hidden identity/double life shit + horror. i'm also obsessed with josh in the mastermind paired with mike from his pinball movie as two men in their late twenties to mid thirties on the case. i left ages vague but i'd want them to be at least 30 lwk. hotter that way to me... anyways, tashi deciding who to kill and reader carrying out her bidding paralleling pat deciding who to target/what to investigate and art doing the tracking/deepsearching. just food for thought. to charlie nozhdyved: HIII IM SO SORRY THIS WASN'T DONE ON UR ACTUAL FR BDAY but i sincerely hope you like it! i tried to capture horror cinema vibes with some more aesthetics sprinkled in, really playing up the movie angle in this hcs/moodboard piece. idk, i just wanted it to be special for you. i was going to do ghostface but i felt it was overdone lwk so i switched gears and cranked all this out instead. anyways, i love you so much, woof woof, hope you enjoy! also on my tomodachi island we call each other charlie-woof and amelia-woof and i think it's supes cute. AND FINALLY. this piece was partially inspired by this image that i thought was sick asf:

tagging! @nozhdyved, @dynamitehacke, @voidsuites, @chronic-fangirl-222, @jiji2827, @bluberrychampagne, @futuremrscameron, @thursdayygrrrl, @pascalsryissa, @hisfavoriteweepingangel, & @fangpires ✩ click here to be added!

[gelotime]

HAPPY TWO YEARS OF CHALLENGERS

[iamaya03]

𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 dried blood on skin, dusty pink, cold silent mornings, feather-light footsteps...

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 boxer!pope cody & ballerina!reader 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 pope finds serenity in the early hours of the morning at the gym. when he notices a change in the run-down dance studio across from him, he goes in to meet you, the new owner who also happens to be the most beautiful woman he's ever met. 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 2.2k 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 i'm such a sucker for the boxer x ballerina trope and i'm now on season two of animal kingdom so likeeee...also, maybe part two to this?? perhaps?? maybe???? no promises, i have a habit of saying these things and never following through. finally, we're gonna ignore the plethora of plot holes and the fact that this isn't entirely proofread, hoorayyy!! :D

pope isn’t sure why no one takes advantage of places that advertise being open for twenty-four hours. his visits to the gym between three and six in the morning was probably the only place in his life where he felt what the world would call ‘normal’. no one else knew about it, it was the one thing he had for himself. for others, this habit would be maniacal, but it’s not like pope got much sleep anyway. he found that his brain stopped buzzing when it ended up just being him, and the collide of his gloves hitting the punching bag.

he developed a consistent routine of showing up to the gym three, maybe four times a week—whenever he could, really. but it was hard to stay consistent if he happened to take a rough hit in whatever match he would have to recover from. other than that, the routine was comfortable.

things changed when he noticed you.

the gym pope goes to resides nearby a lower class neighbourhood, along a street of run-down buildings that somehow still remain in business; a couple of mechanic shops that rival against each other, a liquor store that gets stolen from at least once a week, the recycling centre that produces constant noise from its heavy machinery, and a pawn shop that pope is pretty sure sells drugs under the radar.

however, tucked away behind a mattress store that’s been rotting since it shut down has a little two-story dance studio that you call home. it’s right next door to the gym, pope can see it from the crusty window when he goes to put his things in his locker of choice.

he paid no mind to it at first, not until he noticed a grey car parked outside at around five thirty that usually wasn’t there. if he looked close enough, he could see a fluffy steering wheel cover and floral air freshener keeping the interior company. huh.

when pope finished up, he couldn’t help himself and took the few steps across the way to check it out. the door was open and the lights were on when pope reached the empty reception area, so he kept walking.

the sloppy white paint job was peeling and chipped at the walls, and the floors were nothing but creaks and dust. there were certain elements set in place that attempted to make the place look more welcoming; two armchairs here, a garland of fake flowers there. pope was about to walk up the old stairs to the second story, but he caught sight of a figure in one of the two downstairs studios. his feet quietly dragged him there before he could think about doing it himself.

you were absolutely enchanting.

your hair was messily done up with a few strands hanging loosely on either sides of your face, framing your features perfectly. every movement of yours was calculated, yet so delicate, and with each twirl your pastel wrap skirt fluttered with the grace of a swan. pope had never seen anything like it before.

you only caught sight of him through the large mirror that lined one of the walls in the middle of your combo. you stumbled with a frightened gasp, clutching a hand over your racing heart. pope didn’t react, just waited for you to recover with his gym bag slung over his rigid posture.

your gasp quickly turned into a chuckle of relief, your palm going to your forehead as your other hand settled on your hip. pope still didn’t say anything.

“hi,” you laughed while approaching him. he glanced down at the ballet slippers on your feet, then looked back up.

“hi.”

an awkward silence lingered between you two for a beat. “can i…help you with something?” you crossed your arms, tilting your head. one of those strands of hair fell in front of your eyes, and pope found himself wanting to brush it away for you before you did it yourself.

“no. i um, go to the gym over there,” he pointed in the building's direction, “i just finished up. saw this place wasn’t empty like it usually is and got curious.”

you nodded with a polite smile, “oh yeah, for sure. i’m the new owner of this place, so you’ll be seeing me around a lot from now on. it's nice to meet you,” you stick your hand out and tell him your name.

pope stared for a little too long before gently taking your hand as if he was trying not to break it. "pope," he replied. your hands were criminally soft, shaking his with the same delicacy he admired when you were dancing.

pope was too distracted by the way your lips moved around your words to process what you were saying to him. when he still wouldn’t budge, you broke the silence again with a chuckle as you stepped back, next to the barre.

“so are you one of those guys who makes the gym their whole personality?" you teased, resting one hand on the barre to practice some slow tendus, "if you just finished up you would’ve had to have been here at like, five in the morning.”

pope's gaze trailed down your body to watch your legs.

“three, actually," he murmured, practically drooling.

“what?” you stopped. he quickly forced his eyes back to your face.

“nothing.”

another little titter left your throat, genuine this time. pope’s head got fuzzy. he wanted to keep talking to you and hear you laugh some more.

in the silence, you returned the favour and took a second to check him out. he had a few bruises all over, but your eyes ultimately fixated on his hands that seemed to have the worst of it, the bruises accompanied by little cuts. you cock your head to the side ever so slightly. it reminds pope of a curious and unbelievably adorable puppy.

"what happened to your hands? if you don't mind me asking," you hummed.

pope was confused before he glanced down at his knuckles, scabbed and bruised. he'd grown so used to it he didn't even realise it was a noticeable problem. he looked back up at you, flexing his right hand before sliding it into the pocket of his shorts. "i'm a boxer," he explained.

"ohhhhh," you say. after a beat, "aren't you like...meant to take care of your hands?" you pointed out. he just shrugged.

with that, you left the barre and moved past him to rummage around your pink duffle bag where you carry all your ballet gear. he couldn't help himself and watched you bend over.

you came back with a roll of general-use athletic tape and held it out to him.

"here. wrap this around your knuckles whenever you train. it'll do you some good if you add a layer of gauze over this too."

pope gave you a look. you nudged the tape a little closer to him.

"i have plenty at home if that's what you're worried about," you insisted. finally, he took it, turning the roll in his hand. he glanced up at you almost shyly, "thank you."

you smiled, and pope decided he would accept a thousand rolls of tape from you if it meant he got to see it again.

after that single interaction, pope came to the gym a lot more often just to see if your car would pull in. some days you'd carry in boxes full of decor, others you'd just have your pink ballet bag over your shoulder.

he made a habit of wrapping his knuckles now, and when he did, pope reminisced over your smile, your perfume, and how quickly you were able to connect with him. it took about a week to go over and talk to you again, though it was more of a forced interaction after he had seen you struggling to get a coffee table into the reception area. you had to pretend you weren't staring at the bulge in his biceps when he pushed the thing into place.

eventually, pope learned that you left a well-respected dance company in the city and have plans of fixing up this place to run it as a ballet studio. he didn't ask why you'd choose to settle in a shit hole like this, not when you talked so fondly of the future; how you would be teaching classes of little boys and girls from the neighbourhood and running yearly christmas shows in the town hall. your goal is to make this industry accessible to everyone, god knows it wasn’t for you.

today, pope finished up at the gym at six as usual, and walking over to yours had become wedged into his routine. sometimes he’d help with some handy work, sometimes he’d just watch you dance. whatever it was, there'd be quiet games of eye tag, a brush of the hand, and an intimate conversation that revealed something about yourself to him. pope loves it all, he wants it all.

pope saunters into your building again. the reception area is far more lively and clean now, same goes for the hallways in between rooms.

when he sees that you're not in either of the downstairs studios, he climbs the narrow staircase to the second level. it's small, but you explained to him that this would be where the dancers hang out before and in between classes. you want to install a few curtains for changing rooms and get a couple of couches too.

there's another little room right next to the staircase where you're setting up your office. that's where pope spots you hanging up a row of framed photos on the wall, and he knocks on the door frame to get your attention. you turn your head, and he melts when you smile.

“hey andrew,” you chirp as he enters. oh yeah, that's a new thing too.

pope was helping you with a broken step on the staircase a week or two ago, and you learned that his real name is andrew in the midst of a conversation about family. why he goes by pope, you're not sure, but you've been making an effort to call him by his real name ever since.

he stays standing a step or two away from your desk in black gym shorts and a baggy dark grey muscle tank top, some sweat drying at the collar. delicious, you think.

pope gives the most subtle smile back and steps closer to where you are, eyes grazing over the photos you're straightening up. there are three of them in a row, evenly space out. each one is of a little girl in different contexts, all to do with ballet.

the first one that starts on the left has the girl on a lit stage amongst a group of other ballerinas her age, all in a line with big performative smiles on their faces. the photo in the middle has the same girl, just a little bit older with a medal draped around her neck, smiling again for the camera with both of her front teeth missing. the last photo looks like it was taken professionally—the same girl once again, but as a teenager and in an elegant costume, settled into a flawless first arabesque pose.

he was going to ask if you need any help, but ultimately lets his curiosity get the best of him. "is that you?" he asks.

you gaze over the photos and let out a soft laugh. "does it make me seem like a narcissist to have these in my office?"

you mean it as a jest, but pope is too fascinated by the pictures to pick that up. he shakes his head, then turns to you.

"no," he decides, "they're nice."

for pope, that's his way of saying: you're a phenomenon, and i want to have the privilege of falling in love you.

sparks fizz between you both in the silence. something like this has happened more than once in the past few weeks, but neither of you have been brave enough to do anything about it.

pope steps even closer and gently touches your hand, towering over you. your breaths mingle, heat flushes through your body, and you meet him halfway in lacing your fingers together. everything is slow, he leans in closer.

"andrew..." you breathe.

and that's enough to get him to kiss you.

his right hand doesn't let go of your left, but his left one lifts up to cup the side of your face. you melt into him and rest your own free hand on his waist.

one kiss isn't enough, so you go again, much more sure of yourselves this time.

instinctively, you rise up and as close to en pointe as you can get in your socks to reach him better, and wrap your arms around his neck, wrists crossing over each other behind him.

his hands settle on your waist as you pull back, gazing up at him with beaming and radiant eyes. you giggle and let your head fall onto his shoulder shyly. he smiles, really smiles, and tugs you in tightly, murmuring into your hair, "you have no idea how long i've wanted to do that."

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭  @cloudedhouse @angelryex @loonylups @bluberrychampagne @stargral @alphabetically-deranged @patrickzweigsdefender @charmedntruer @severe-mental-illness @aemondsbbgx @challengers4ev 𝐛𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭