#/⠀⠀⠀⠀*⠀⠀⠀⠀𝟎𝟎𝟏.⠀⠀⠀⠀‚⠀⠀⠀⠀appearence.⠀⠀⠀⠀⋆

[erabundus]

jump  scaring  you  with  a  SCARAMEOW  to  get  your  attention  —  !  if  you're  interested  in  A  STARTER,  feel  free  to  give  this  post  a  like!  (  multis  please  specify  muse,  or  you  leave  fate  in  my  hands.  )  i  might  put  a  soft  cap  of  eight  for  the  sake  of  my  peace  of  mind  —  i  may  write  more!  i  probably  will!  but  i'll  leave  it  up  to  inspiration  so  i  don't  burn  myself  out.

[laloyds]

tag drop

[zarinaz]

tag drop

[devirashmi]

this post is a tag drop

[t0rturedangel]

Ohhh since you're writing for him could you write something about evil morty being jealous/possessive with the reader (in a romantic relationship) please and thank you!

𝟎𝟎𝟏. 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘫𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘺 𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘴 [ 𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘭 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘺 𝘷𝘦𝘳. ]

⠀⠀⠀: ᯓ 𝟎𝟎𝟐.⠀ EVIL MORTY SMITH X READER

› 〉 𝟎𝟎𝟑. SYNOPSIS, Evil Morty is one hell of a bf, his jealousy and possesiveness is crazy.

› 〉 𝟎𝟎𝟒. WARNINGS, Evil Morty, maybe a bit ooc, threats / threats of violence, ect

› 〉 𝟎𝟎𝟓. AUTHOR'S NOTES, Happy to do another rick and morty request! I hope this one is good- i'm not too good when it comes to writing for characters like him but I'll try! ALSO SOME WORDS MIGHT BE SPELT WRONG

🜸 ㅤ▎ㅤ▍ㅤUnlike RICK, EVIL MORTY is well aware that he can get jealous and possesive over you- in fact most Morties are aware of that fact, and well you cant exactly blame them, love is something they dont get often, and when they do it doesn't last.

🜸 ㅤ▎ㅤ▍ㅤSo it is no surprise that when you began to date EVIL MORTY, he was quick to become jealous and bitter to all other morties (even more than he already is). After all, now that your his significant other, others may be prone to want to go after you which is something that will bother EVIL MORTY.

🜸 ㅤ▎ㅤ▍ㅤThis especially happens during his presidental run, now that he's making himself and, ultimately, you public- many would be bound to try and get you away from him for various reasons. Though don't worry too much, EVIL MORTY has it all sorted- pull a few strings and the rouge morties that tried to even interact with you will be gone, like they never exsisted.

"Morty.." you called out, staring at your boyfriend who was currently sifting through various files, persumebly all to do with the votes and campaign as he was running for president in the citadel- something you heavily encouraged because it would be good to have a new, democraticly elected, leader for the citadel and hey, if morty needed any help or things got to stressful you'd be able to help (I mean how hard can it be?). "Yeah [name]?" He lifted his head up, staring at you with a quirked brow, clearly wanting you to continue though under his gaze you felt slightly uncomfortable- jeez when did your boyfriend become so damn scary? "Do you know what happened to the two Morties that jumped me the other day? I was searching for them coz I found out they were trying to make bootleg portal fluid but they were gone" you picked at the skin around your nails, avoiding your Morty's gaze nervously though your attention was quickly brought back to him when he sighed "Don't worry about them [name], they've been dealt with..... now come on- can you help me with these papers" he smiled at you, gesturing to the seat next to him which you quickly sat down on. You can only assume that Morty sent the cops after them, and that they're now in prison.

🜸 ㅤ▎ㅤ▍ㅤLet's say you're evil with him, meaning that you agree with what he does, and so when you met c-137 Rick and Morty you too pretened to be normal until you didn't- you were the first person the two were introduced to as you sat with them to eat food before evil morty appeared. Both of you then confessing to the fact that you hated ricks and the citadel.

🜸 ㅤ▎ㅤ▍ㅤIf you were 'evil' like him, then it would be perfect- because then he would be able to leave everything behind with you! Which is brilliant coz that means it will be just the two of you together, no one else trying to disturb your relationship (until season seven episode five).

🜸 ㅤ▎ㅤ▍ㅤOverall, EVIL MORTY is a little extreme when it comes to his jealousy- he doesn't like being jealous so he takes care of the problems quickly and swiftly, the quicker the better.

[countdykulaa]

﹟ ⠀ ⠀ 𝟎𝟎𝟏 ⠀ . ⠀ ⠀SANCTIFY ME⠀ ⠀ ﹕ ⠀ ⠀ ❪ ⠀ hyperreligious!abby x rebel! reader ⠀ ❫

summary: Abby finds solace and comfort in the familiar embrace of the temple, a sacred space that offers her a sense of purpose and belonging. However, her peaceful reverie is interrupted by an unexpected presence, introducing tension into her sanctuary and forcing her to confront an unsettling shift in the atmosphere.

contains: religious aspects and trauma described in detail, dark!abby, internalized homophobia, childhood friends to enemies to ...something

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm golden glow over the quiet streets as Abby made her way towards the temple. She could hear her friends’ laughter floating beside her, the sound wrapping around her like a comforting blanket. Their voices faded in and out, a melodic backdrop to her thoughts as she clutched her trusty leather Bible, its worn edges a testament to the countless hours spent pouring over its pages.

Each step brought her closer to the grand entrance, where towering columns rose like sentinels, welcoming her into a sacred space that had always felt like home. The heavy wooden doors creaked open, revealing the cool, dimly lit interior. As she crossed the threshold, a sense of calm washed over her, enveloping her in a tranquil embrace. This was her sanctuary, a refuge from the chaos of the outside world.

Inside, the air was thick with the familiar scent of polished wood and the faint trace of incense, mingling to create an atmosphere rich with history and spirituality. The flickering candles cast dancing shadows on the walls, illuminating the intricate carvings that whispered stories of faith and devotion. Abby closed her eyes for a moment, allowing herself to bask in the peaceful ambiance, feeling the weight of her worries lift, if only for a brief respite.

"Can you believe the pastor's message today?" one of her friends chimed in, pulling her back into the present. They began discussing the sermon, their voices echoing softly within the hallowed halls, but Abby's mind wandered elsewhere. She felt like a lost traveler desperate for shelter, the temple opening its arms to feed, clothe, and bless her with the word. There was no other place where she felt most needed, most cherished, most gracious...and why were you here?

you. the one with no name in her righteous mind for its mere utterance is a sin . you're the festering thorn in her flesh,   a curse birthed from Eden's shadow, growing   more crimson with each passing second,   like a plague sent to test her.  you , who roams around the streets of the small town you both have been imprisoned in , with your too high heels and too short skirt and studded belt wrapped around your waist with diamonds that flicker and blind the whole population into your treacherous ways . sacrificial blood is painted on your lips . The devils red as they call it . you , who can not be bothered to go to church every sunday for you're too busy dedicating your life to satans crusade. you, who reeks of cigarettes and booze and perfume much too light to belong to you. you, who abby prays for eternal damnation to come sooner .

Every night, her knees hit the ground—scraped raw, a blood-soaked cherry—praying to the heavens for deliverance from you. She whispers to God, begging for release, for you to be cast out like a demon, to spill your sin-stained filth on some other forsaken soul. She loathes you as one loathes the serpent, fears you as one fears divine wrath, despises you as the fallen despise the light. But deep beneath her trembling prayers, there’s envy—a festering, unholy desire, twisting her heart like a knife. Whenever you appear, it is as though her heart is torn from her chest, a bloody offering staining the earth at your feet.

her eyes glare daggers into your form. you, seemingly unphased by the hole burning into your skin , rest your head on the nave , eyes shieled by those retched sunglasses you always wear. this is unlike you. unlike any devil . resting comfortably in the only place that could send your incurable soul back to the fiery pits of hell. the sound of her friends is drowned out by the scent of you. even from afar she can feel the musky perfume that permeates your whiskey brown skin .

" - owen's for bible study right abby?"

her friends words rip her out her trance.

"huh?"

"I was telling mel about the bible study session we have soon. that's still on right?"

she nods her head in agreeance. eyes refocusing back to the woman before them.

"why don't you guys go ahead. i still have to meet up with bishop Michael about the bible camp thing."

They exchange glances but nod, understanding her need for space. As they walk away, their chatter fades, and the atmosphere shifts. Abby feels the weight of silence settle around her, amplifying the tension in the air.

Now alone with you, the temptress, Abby’s heart races. The comforting hum of the temple feels distant as she steals a glance at your relaxed figure, your presence a stark contrast to the sanctity of the space. She swallows hard, knowing that the sanctuary, once a refuge, has become a stage for an unsettling confrontation.

her feet move before her mind can react. she finds herself before you. a vengeance running sharply through her form. Abby stands at the nave , the worn wooden surface cool beneath her fingers as she grips the edge , grounding herself against the rising tide of emotion. The sanctity of the temple feels shattered by your presence , the air thick with tension.

"what are you doing here?" she spits out , the venom running down her words trailing onto your smug smile. you sit there … legs crossed and propped on the nave without a care in the world as you hold the match stick of carnal desire in hand ready to burn down her temple of belief. faith. constraint.

"to get saved and sanctified of course." your words take on a mocking tone as you quote the pastors words. "why else would i be here?"

to reek havoc on me. on god. on all that can be saved.

"Proverbs chapter nineteen verse nine. A false witness shall not be unpunished, and he that speaketh lies shall perish." abby mutters out through gritted teeth.

your tongue flicks against the roof of your mouth as your lips widen into a smile. "still showing everyone how much of a good little church girl you are. just like when we were kids."

"you mean before you lost your ways?"

"I mean before I realized how crazy you all are."

abby shakes her head , grip on the bible tightening with each word spoken. "the only crazy person here is you. you're the one everyone avoids. the one everyone speaks about once you leave the room. the queer. the outcast. the serpent climbing into the garden of eden to tempt eve. not adam. eve. your nourishment for the female sex is an infestation and i will not let you taint this church." her voice drops to a whisper as she leans closer. "you weren't possessed by the devil. you are him."

"and you're what? adam? god? the garden? or eve in this equation?" you bite back, hands grabbing the nave in front of you as you stand. When you rise from your seat , it’s as if the world around you fades away, leaving only the two of you in the dim light . You stand mere breaths apart , the heat radiating off you wrapping around her like a siren’s call . Her heart pounds in her chest , each thud echoing the unspoken challenge in your gaze .

The closeness is electrifying , an intoxicating mix of defiance and desire, as she fights to maintain her composure in the face of the temptation you embody. "you and your little posse can judge me all you want. throw your stupid verses in my face like i haven't read it all front to back but you know more than i do that when you look in the mirror my face is all you see."

she breathes in , words stuttering in shock. how dare you accuse her of such an egregious offence. in her home. while god is forced to bear witness. "i am nothing like you. you're nothing more than a sinner."

"First John, chapter one verse eight." you drawl out, that smirk everso present on your features. "If we claim to be without sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us."

your quotes are less of a shock. being the pastors daughter of course you'd know more than most. it was what made you so powerful.

"you are nothing but an evil charlatan. delilah slinking down to reach back and cut off samsons hair in an act of seductive betrayal. i will not let you steal my strength. i will not let you rob me of my devotion."

"so walk away. forget i exist."

forget you exist. you say the words with such ease. as if it were that simple. as if your entire being was not seared into her skull like a brand. like a starving man could forget the concept of hunger. like a rabid dog could forget the foam in his mouth as he viciously attacked any unsuspecting prey. forget you. just as easily as you must've forgotten her.

her hands reach out and wrap around your throat in a move so fast you have no time to react. It’s a primal reaction, fueled by an overwhelming need to claim this moment , to anchor herself in the whirlwind of sin and desire swirling between us. her fingers wrap around her skin, firm yet hesitant, the warmth of her pulse thrumming beneath her touch.

she places pressure on them, delighting in your gasp of surprise. The contrast between her cool palm and your warm skin ignites something deep within her, awakening a hunger she had tried to pray away. abby can feel the rise and fall of your chest, the warmth of her breath mingling with the faint scent of incense that clings to the air, creating an intoxicating haze that makes her head spin

"First Timothy, chapter five verse twenty-two." you rush out, hands trying desperately to yank from her grip. your stiletto shaped nails pierce her skin as you try to claw your way to freedom. "Do not be hasty in the laying on of hands, and do not share in the sins of others. Keep yourself pure."

"You? Satan? Preach the word of God to me?" Abby's voice rings out, sharp and venomous. Her lips curl into a sneer as she stares down at you, her fingers tightening their grip around your throat. The muscle in her jaw ticks, rage battling with something darker in her eyes. Her breath comes in hot, uneven bursts, fanning against your cheek, but it's her fury that burns the most. " What do you know of the Word?" She hisses through clenched teeth. "Of purity? Of light? Air? Devotion?"

Her hand clenches harder, your pulse pounding beneath her fingers, as though she could throttle the sin from your very veins. Abby’s gaze drifts over you, taking in the smooth arch of your neck, the swell of your lips as you struggle for breath. Her teeth graze her lower lip in thought, and for a moment, her eyes darken, pupils dilating like she’s glimpsing something she doesn't dare name. There's a dangerous hunger in the way she watches you, a predator teetering on the precipice of restraint.

But she doesn't pull back. Abby leans closer instead, her breath ghosting across your skin as she hovers just inches away. The scent of incense and desperation clings to her like a second skin, filling the small space between your bodies. It’s suffocating, intoxicating, and your skin prickles beneath the weight of her scrutiny.

She whispers, so close now that her lips nearly brush against your ear. "I will show you purity." Her voice is low, almost reverent, and yet there’s an edge of cruelty that sends a shiver down your spine. The hand around your throat remains firm, but her thumb strokes along the column of your neck, slow and deliberate, as if testing the boundaries of her control. "I will purify you myself."

Her words are a promise, but there is nothing holy in her touch. Abby's other hand skims your collarbone, tracing the line of your shoulder with an unnerving softness, the pad of her thumb pressing down with a gentleness that belies the strength of her grip. Her fingers trail lower, ghosting over your chest, as though she’s searching for something beneath your skin, something she needs to pull out, something to cleanse.

The tension coils tighter between you, thick and suffocating. Every inch of you is on fire beneath her touch, but it’s her eyes—those hard, judging eyes—that trap you most. She looks at you like you're both a challenge and a salvation as if breaking you down would mean breaking herself free. Her breathing quickens, matching the frantic rise and fall of your chest, and for a fleeting moment, her gaze flickers to your lips. Something fragile and desperate breaks loose inside her, but she doesn't let it show. She can't. Not when purity is what she craves, what she needs.

Her grip tightens, her thumb pressing down on your pulse, and the world tilts just slightly. Her lips quiver as if she’s biting back words—prayers, curses, you can't tell. Maybe both. The air between you is thick, and for all her self-righteousness, for all her preaching about light and devotion, Abby is here, in the darkness with you, teetering on the edge of something she cannot name.

It’s in the stillness, in the charged silence where your breaths mingle, that the line between salvation and damnation blurs. Abby’s eyes glint, her lips parting just barely as if she’s about to say something, but nothing comes. Instead, her grip loosens, just a fraction, a tremble running through her hand as if she can no longer trust herself to hold on. Yet she doesn’t let go—not fully. She can't. Not when you're her tether, the embodiment of everything she’s tried so hard to fight.

Her lips brush against your ear once more, softer this time, her voice barely a whisper, trembling with something she can no longer contain. "I will make you pure."

PLUTOS WORLD: okay! so this has been my longest fic yet but i had fun! will most defiantly be a part two if requested

TAGLIST: @r3starttt @cyb3rdino @abyssgf @savethegoddamturtles

[mold-cursed]

❛I was raised in a 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐄, a 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐑 with no parole... they 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐃 me 𝐔𝐏 and 𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋, ashamed of what they'd made.❜

#mold-cursed   -   a fakevz-based portrayal of 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 (𝐄-𝟎𝟎𝟏) of the 𝑹𝑬𝑺𝑰𝑫𝑬𝑵𝑻 𝑬𝑽𝑰𝑳 franchise. independent, semi-selective and semi-active, eng/ger.

Eveline, codenamed E-001, was a genetically modified human conceived as part of the next generation of bioweapons research, designed to eliminate enemies without the need for combat. As a result of the merging of an anomalous bacteria into her genome during the embryonic stage, she gained the ability to control the minds of people who came in contact with her. Eveline was unique in being the first E-Type bioweapon, alongside her unhealthy obsession with creating a family to suit her own needs.

(side note: due to obvious reasons, this version of Eveline has been aged up. instead of being artificially aged to appear as a ten-year-old, in this portrayal, she appears as a woman in her mid-twenties.)

[starsologyy]

𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑, 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ─ 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 [𝟎𝟎𝟏].

001. ─── ✦ A BITTER 17 [SERIES MASTERLIST} ✧˖*°࿐

synopsis ─ [31 DAYS LEFT TILL THE EXAM]. after being rejected by your childhood best friend, you walk by yourself to your other best friend's birthday party. but even after you use the celebration to forget him, it seems he leaves you a parting wish to forget what he said.

content warnings ─ alcohol usage, curse words, and etc.

𝐍𝐎𝐕 𝟗 ─── 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐎𝐎𝐍.

“change is good.”

it’s a quote with words that soothes the ache of the guilt of never ending metamorphosis with its dearing touch, yet sears with regard to whatever you may have yearned to keep. your body still lingers though in an oblivious trance of the past, stuck even when you tell yourself this quote, noticeably the presence of the sound of dreadful repetition of the god awful radio in the car when your phone has died and your dad doesn’t like the silence. 

you’re supposed to move on, and yet, change doesn’t feel all that great like it should. 

suguru telling you it was an impulse to kiss your lips that morning had forced the wrenching of your weak guts, mutating what little love you had found in mind and self to be left to shreds. you used to consider his voice the melody entertained with the love belonging to naive youth,  but his rhythm now leaves you bitter when you know yours is no longer a proper one itself. 

his words have left you to appear restless despite the hours of rest you have laid with him yesterday  as you walk to the library, and you wonder just how much one boy could just seemingly ruin everything in a mere second or two. 

the soles of your aged sneakers brush harshly against the fissures of similarly old concrete when you try to figure this matter. of the uncomfortably familiar streets that you tread, you’re forced to witness the disaster hurling inside the crevices between your rigid bones that call out to lay your eyes and in heart to seek a selfish longing such as a motionless life. 

ingrained in privileged purity and righteousness in the midst of infancy, your body used to run gravely cold at even thought of something like an easy life.  

when suguru left initially, you too, originally planned to leave when you got a bit older. because in a town so miniscule, there was nothing close to the freedom of living out the wildest dreams one may have. stuck by the identical proximity and communal till lungs inhale and exhale finally, you used to find that life daunting. to remain in bind  forever by the opinions of those who resided was a possibility of hell, and now remains so admittedly.

the city allowed you to breathe. do whatever you want, and nobody will dare to care. the thought that you don’t matter much, you found that to be freeing. 

you had always planned to escape from the nostalgia and the redundancy of the town; to lace your worn sneakers in a haste manner before taking off to wherever your heart had desired at the moment. you’ll escape in the cheapest vehicle at the junkyard you had bought beforehand, then drive recklessly while you release your thoughts to the cds that play as soon as you land on the first highway out of this town. you didn't know (or care) if you would struggle all alone somewhere else. its dread lacked importance as long as you were free. perhaps a skinning sort of agony, but it meant you had the determination to do it, and you would be better than the boring folk who resided in oblivious comfort. you wanted to be better. 

however, just as the hastful suguru was to abandon what built between you two when he moved, as quick as he was to enter your life once more after his return. jovial though you were to see him once more, but it was at a steep price of daring the depths of the disaster in your very soul that you found the horror (yet truth), that suguru had led you complacent into discovering the very pleasure of domesticity. for his words to lead you astray from the philosophical freedom you once sought, to instead let the eventual ache of your feet be mediated by the possibility of the gentle rocking of the wooden chair you’ll purchase for the house in the countryside with him.

after this morning though, you doubt he would even visit that house if you had bought it. he’s gone to wind, and you were stuck with your feet embedded in soil, yearning to keep time still as a caterpillar’s walking pace of early metamorphosis to preserve the fading moments with him.  it seems he didn’t feel the same for you, since suguru grew mosaic wings from this, and you were still on the ground. 

the roughness of the pads belonging to the surface of your fingertips attempt to sooth the chaos stirring in the puffiness surrounding your eyes when you realize this truth. they glide to smooth an approaching swelling, and with every wrinkle they flush back into your supple skin, you even feel yourself whispering curses directed to the very silence around you like someone would come console you of this actuality. 

it’s laughable.

laughable because you’re now standing in front of another very proof that time can’t stand still after it has crossed your path during this pitiful walk of yours.

it’s only an old truck the local elderly couple on the block owns, and yet you wonder if the universe just yearns to entertain your anguish in the midst of this freezing autumn. 

sure it may be invaluable and complicated to deal with to most, yet if they didn’t have love for this car, they would have simply abandoned it in some junkyard nearby. you know how complicated and annoying it is to maintain that car because you and suguru had also worked with your dad at the auto shop to repair it every summer. despite suguru’s departure, you and your father still begrudgingly repaired it yourselves. it took days, and certainly wasn’t cheap for them because everybody involved had realized it was a miracle your dad even had the talent to fix something that old. but you can tell it meant a lot to them, because they paid the hefty price every time with a pretty penny too as tip. 

through change someone loved it. when it got old, it still was taken care of. you think you now yearn for that determination from somebody. 

it lingered in your mind, causing you to wonder if suguru had loved you through the metamorphosis your vulnerability had undergone during his leave. you had become rough around the edges, like a dog who bites at its owner rather than bark. had he eventually gotten too tired to throw his bone to you? so now he rejects you? 

you decide to forget about it, afraid it would cause you to become too obviously depressed before you had met up with the others, so you quickly rushed your feet to avoid further thought. 

──────────────────────────────

once you finally arrived at the quint library, you pushed open the glass doors, just for your jaw to collapse.

the widened pupils in your eyes saw your best friend kana, also suguru’s little sister, kissing suguru’s best friend, satoru.

“okay don’t worry I can explain this just calm down!—” she shouted nervously.

“oh jesus so you’re dating your brother’s best friend and I’m supposed to be calm? you couldn’t have even told me?—” 

“sure bring that up but aren’t you dating my brother? So who’s acting supposed to be calm? cause it’s definitely not you—” kana nagged.

 “who said i’m dating your suguru when i got rejected this morning by him when i tried!?—” you retorted. 

“you’re dating suguru?” satoru interrupts, appearing rather dumbfounded as his lips curve to whisp a “huh” a moment afterwards. “sorry, i mean, did you try to date him? lameee! was your confession that bad?” he teases, but you and kana are still standing there, again with both jaws dropped on the wooden floors at the fact you even confessed to suguru and she’s dating his best friend.

where do you begin now? that you thought after all these years he was showing signs of feelings but it turns you’re actually just delusional? kana jabs at satoru’s side before raising an eyebrow at you, awaiting a response as well clearly. it’s the season where your exhales release as mist and yet you can feel an approaching drop of sweat down your forehead. 

“can we start on one thing before making fun of me? and yeah he fucking rejected me after he stole my first kiss—” you stutter finally after a couple of moments, “but how the hell did he steal your first kiss though?—” kana interrupts right after, satoru even letting out a boisterous laugh at way you just keep fucking up your words.

“you fumbled badly. we’re going to championships too. you could’ve been one of those basketball star girlfriends,” he pokes, throwing you a can of beer from his bag before settling further into the seat he was at. “but really, i thought he liked you…so what did he actually do?” 

you didn’t really notice it before you were too ashamed really to look at him, yet it’s the first time you’ve seen his cheshire like grin suddenly drop, a glimmer of concern laying in the blinding blues that swirled in his very eyes. has he always been upset once you first told him of this incident? for your sake? 

the concealment of the anger through the vein that pops on his forehead was almost hidden if you hadn’t peered closer through the heavy bangs he adorns. you do great when you start to pace between the shelves surrounding you three,  attempting to rest the worry that he may, in the simpleness of the vocabulary you have accumulated, knock the shit out of suguru when he arrives later. 

oh how the tightening and crease around his knuckles grow pale through his grip on the table edge easily silence the very potential of any words to be said die in the closing of the space between your lips to possibly reveal what lies inside you. the fact he can do so, is impressive, admittedly.

you almost laugh at the way he now releases a huff of air or two when kana traces her manicured blinged nails along the veins on his soft hands though, relaxing him like how satoru himself does with his own dog, callie. she doesn’t appear to contain her raging annoyance at brother like how her supposed boyfriend (and his best friend) does from first glance, but you can still tell she does since she’s almost violently trembling (likely in words she’s about to yell suguru with) despite the truth she has two sweaters on and acting as if she’s in antarctica. 

 it’s also when you stand only a couple of inches away you can tell this relationship hadn’t been one that developed only recently. you don’t comment on it though.

“he rejected me.”

“…so what made you think he liked me then?” you ask, kicking the wooden seat to let yourself settle onto it before cracking open the metal can beneath your rigid nails. 

“[y/n] wake up, what kinda “best friend” looks at somebody dumbstruck during class if he doesn’t like her?” the white haired boy sighs, rummaging with a sigh or two as he plucks out another beer from the cooler beside the leg of the wooden table. 

kana nods in agreement, and when she doesn’t say much, that’s how you know someone has found the words of absolute perfection to voice what she must have thought (which is rare you admit). 

“im pissed off because he does all of that lovey dovey shit and still gets to do you like that,” he chugs the gold corona past the openings of his lips, wincing immediately after, “aren’t you mad? i teased you about it but…if someone ever did that to me, i wouldn’t know what to believe,” he mumbles.

“is this really right to talk about during kana’s birthday?” you chuckle (rather awkwardly), glancing over at your best friend seemingly staring off into space. the splashing of your can doesn’t seem to rip through the silence between all of you anymore unfortunately.

you didn’t want to shit on suguru just yet for some unknown reason. perhaps, he’ll come back and say he was simply joking of course, so you wait to align with your anger.

“it’s not a very fun birthday if i find out that my best friend is sad because the love of her life is a pussy, sooo…” kana says finally,  scurrying off to the magazine stand near the cashier, running right back to hand you a magazine a moment later. platinum highlights in her onyx hair look especially taken care of today you realize. 

“what’s this about?”

“my apology for not telling you about satoruu obviously!” she wraps her arms around your shoulders, “and my thank you for the amazing gift you got me.” 

you raise a brow at kana before shrugging, starting to flip through the overly decorated paper with scented perfume samples and plasters of the hottest idols at the moment. it bores you slightly after you have smelled the fifth sample of some random strawberry perfume, until you come across a little interview.

you have to admit. the idol being interviewed is stunning.

the questions seem a little two faced at first, like all the media could care is how many times she curls her hair to achieve the wavy beach effect, but you come across a section where she seems to try to help her oh so “unfortunate” audience.

it’s hilarious, yes, but you’re reading it like religious literature.  

she doesn’t seem to divert from the typical “how to look better” guides, change your hair color, wear different makeup (both that are supposed to suit you better somehow), and foolery like that. but you can’t seem to ignore how your eyes linger on pink bold letterings soaked in messy glitter that also mention changing your style, diet, and everything. 

you don’t want to admit it, but it seems tempting.  

“earth to [y/n]?”  kana grins, flickering your forehead as your head automocally shifts to her eyes staring into yours. you can tell she was late to arrive home yesterday since her concealer can’t even cover the depth of exhaustion meshed with the rosy, blushed flesh belonging to her face. “now you’re interested?”

“it’s lame.” you chuckle.

“was it really lame if you were enjoying it?” satoru pokes, and you roll your eyes before kana shrugs in agreement. 

“he’s not going to suddenly leave whatever girl he likes just because i got a glow up, he’s not like that.” you sigh, resting your head in your hands as you daze off. 

“you guys are next level delusional if you think me having a pokemon sort of evolution is the key to all this.” you slightly laugh, twirling your locks around a finger of yours. 

when the flowery scent of your dollar store shampoo approaches your nose, it makes you wince for some reason. perhaps it’s because suguru told you he liked the way your hair smelled once. he never said it ever again though, and you wonder why at this moment you remember it in your pit of misery. a living grave of what could have been said in response to his compliment, to now to follow you to be stuck to your head from there on since you had (regrettably) only showed a smile at the time. 

“whatever you say…” kana yawns, looking at her phone for a moment, “but if i say for my birthday wish I want you to do it, will that help?” she grinned.

“she got you there.” satoru whistles.

“shut up.” you mutter, taking a sip of your beverage before continuing, loosening up.

“…it’s not that i don’t want to, but i don’t know if it’s the best idea,” you mutter, setting the laminated sheets of thin paper on the table as your eyes linger once more. “it’s just, changing my entire look, for a guy, isn’t very productive either right before our exams, idiots. ever thought of that?” you groan, running your fingertips through the base of your hair. 

“not me though, i have one year left. i’ll worry about exams…next year? still, even if you guys have them, doesn’t mean you can’t have romance in your life. it's a piece of paper, and if you die alone because of it, it’s kinda your fault.” kana chirps, and satoru simply gives you an agreeing look to accompany his girlfriend’s disagreement to your qualms. 

a look that can only mean, in the entire two years since he first moved to this small town to follow suguru mindlessly from the other school he had attended, that satoru knows he’s right for once. it worries you a bit because of his usual playful and rather talkative manner. 

“but—”

“ah, happy birthday kana!” a long onyx haired girl cheers, unintentionally interrupting you as her figure walks through the glass doors, a familiar taller, coffee colored short hair girl following behind her, the cigarette between her maroon lips escaping their crevice to be thrown out in the bin immediately by her calloused hands. 

“good timing for the both of you, now help convince [y/n] she doesn’t need suguru. and that I’m right, as I always am—” kana says, an immediate, “what even happened—” escaping from shoko’s lips soon afterwards as she applies lip gloss to hide the scent of the smoke on them. 

“suguru rejected me, that’s what happened!” you blurt out, your brows furrowed as the apples of your cheek burnt up while the two that had entered let out a sigh. they soon sit down beside you, and an awkward moment of silence continues again. 

“he told me he didn’t like me, and now kana is trying to convince me to go through some mega glow up to make him regret it.” you groan, shuffling through the cooler once more for another beer to cool off. 

“and so because of that, [y/n] is releasing her anger on everybody,” satoru murmurs, taking another sip of his own drink before he whistles obliviously to avoid your piercing glare. “am not!—”

“so are you completely lucky go happy and not threatening to murder us?” he raises a brow, and your lips are sewn immediately. “see? she’s going to lose her damn marbles over this crap.” satoru chuckles, and they nod in a certain understanding.

“i just, i feel bad for ruining for kana’s birthday like this. I admitted to being in love with her brother, and now i’m having some group therapy session.” you huff, looking over at the birthday girl as she sits on a shelf all casually before she grins at you after adjusting her bangs. 

“well, how about we celebrate kana’s birthday first, and then we can do whatever the birthday girl wants for you.” utahime chuckled sheepishly, grabbing a lighter effortlessly from one of the twenty seven pockets on shoko’s cargos, before directly looking at satoru. you’re suspicious why she knows where it is so easily, but you’re too grateful for her excellent topic shifts to to say anything.

the rest of the group nods, and you take a big sigh of relief. 

“where’s suguru with the cake?” utahime adds, her eyes rushing to meet the ink hues of the taller boy who entered the room as he grins at her. 

“here, fifteen dollars for a birthday cake  is pretty insane.” suguru says, placing the cake down on the table beside you before he waves at you, yet you can see his eyebrows scrunch when you look away instead of reciprocating it. nobody comments on it though. 

“is it because you’re broke suguru?” satoru interrupts out of the blue, getting up to ruffle suguru’s silky locks beneath the pads of his fingertips before a smirk emerges on his face from his joy of annoying his best friend.  “personally, me, i have never complained about two digit prices.” the white haired boy whistles, walking away as he took out the number one and seven candles in his bag, pushing them down into the soft cream of the cake.

suguru roll his eyes before he laughs, and everybody surrounds the cake.

it’s cheap, proven by the buttercream frosting reaching peaks that seem to grow appetizingly weak the further your eyes follow them, but you still have to admire the thick script of the simple ‘happy birthday kana’ likely made by the middle aged cat lady at the local bakery. it’s not too perfect (she seems to have forgotten cursive for some letters) but she improvised its mess into something somewhat bearable to stare at. 

“ready?” utahime says, lighting the rainbow candles.

“happy birthday to youuu, happy birthday to you,”

and there everybody sang a simple tune of happy birthday for kana. it felt a little weird to sing it in a library so early in the morning, yet oddly jovial to be able to witness that over the moon glimmer of light in kana’s eyes as she made silly poses for shoko to record her during all your singing. as long as she was happy, nobody cared how idiotic they looked. 

“happy birthday dear kana,”

satoru was no exception either clearly, because you spot his hand around her waist despite suguru being right beside her, but you pretend to have not. it wasn’t your business in the end, and as long as he continued to make her happy as this obnoxious singing did, love shall prevail as corny as it may sound, you thought. 

“happy birthday to you!”

and the song has ended. you stifle a laugh as satoru removed his hand at the speed of light as suguru began to cut the cake.  

“thank you, thank you!” kana chirped, hugging everybody rather tight before she dug in into her slide of cake, the ombré layers all smushed as her fork pierced it’s layers, simply to entertain her taste buds as quickly as she got the utensil to do so. “it’s really good,” she says with a mouth full of it, everybody laughing as they soon got themselves a slice.

 but it’s not really a birthday party without obscene amounts of pizza and junk food, so she didn’t spend long on that cake before digging into the steaming pizza that was delivered just as she took her last bite.

“happy birthday again idiot,” you grin when you poke at her, hugging her side once more as she hugs you back. she radiated the sun, and you simply wanted to be in the radius of her shine today.

everybody started to open drinks after a while of eating, leaving on a playlist in the background as they chatted.

──────────────────────────────

 time seemed to fly by fast, because it was eight o clock pm now and you could feel the dim stars ever so slightly seep into the moles and freckles of your flesh through the opening of the slightly cracked window. it’s from when shoko wanted another smoke and utahime whined about its oh so ‘deadly’ effects since shoko herself thought it was smart to open a window in the middle of freezing autumn. no one complained in the end though since the slight breeze helped to not end up wasted immediately, which was nice. 

you look over your shoulder as you remain pressed against the shelf of science fiction, noticing your best friend almost knocked out on the floor as satoru sits right beside her on the carpet, stroking her back. you thought satoru would be more drunk by now, but he seems to rely more on a lollipop at the moment to fix his oral craving for some reason. you wonder if they’re so drunk that they can’t tell suguru is only ten feet away sitting down at a table.  but you can’t blame the couple too much. he’s too drunk himself to notice anything since it seems since he can barely keep his head up. 

speaking of him though, you feel a bit sick when you see his eyes glance on shoko a little too often for your liking. utahime was oddly focused on a kids manga so she wasn’t talking much in that group conversation, but you wonder what could be so entertaining in their world that suguru isn’t talking to you at the moment (even after this morning’s fiasco.)

sure you confessed, but why is he treating you like some stranger? he didn’t even talk to you that much during the party. and yeah maybe you're mad because your drinks have made you more sensitive than ever, but you felt oddly sober enough to realize you should get out before he could tell the look of jealousy in your eyes from staring at the two of them.  

shoko has been your friend ever since suguru came back from his stay with his dad. she hasn’t been anything but a shoulder for you, always getting you to stop being a ‘stick in the ass’ as she crudely refers to it, and never giving you shit despite sometimes acting manic. so it makes you feel worse you’re jealous of her right now. 

you stand up slowly, waving bye to satoru and kana, only a murmur from the both of them to be heard as you slowly push open the glass door. you walk the night in a shiver, yet the chill sobers you more as your eyes are glued on the concrete.

shoko’s pretty. short brown choppy hair. it wouldn’t look the best on you as it did on her. her cool tight eyeliner and the way she pulls off any bold color of lipstick must be tempting for suguru, and you can’t blame him for liking someone like her. the way she was with the flow, and you were exactly the opposite. she liked those bands you don’t tell your parents about and instead just steal their car to go see them at a underground bar. shoko was the type to just so cooly light a shared cigarette with her effortlessly. if you tried you would probably burn the other person’s lips somehow.

you feel horrible. 

you can’t be mad at him for finding someone else prettier. and you can’t be mad at her if she found herself to like him. what kinda friend would you be? 

so you wonder why your feet have led you to the park you and suguru frequented. 

and you even wonder more why your feet lead to let you reside on the swing you always chose ever since you first came. your hands grip the bit of a rust on the chain, and you let the weight of your body slowly push you as you think. 

what were you doing here but reminiscing over a man that wasn’t yours? you feel stupid, and the drinks don’t help but to cause your tear ducts to spill a little more than they should as you sob out into the silence of the night for the decaying nature around to take your anguish with them before their greenery finally disappears with the upcoming winter. 

it doesn’t help when you accidentally look over to the swing that suguru always took when you guys played together, and you just remember how cool he always looked after he ran from his basketball game to accompany you whenever you looked lonely swinging by yourself. He would talk your ear off, and as much as some may have loathed his pity and slight savior complex disguised as a philosophy of kindness , you embraced it with all you had.

and now you kinda wish even after everything he would do the same. you continued to weep, wiping your eyes even if you had some half assed glitter on your lids from this morning.

“you okay?” suguru whispered.

shit.

“why are you here? thought you were avoiding me, suguru.” 

you don’t notice the way his heart pangs at the lack of your nickname of his. 

“i was passing by to go home.” his voice cracks. suguru’s voice always does that when he lies. you wonder what is there to hide now. but you don’t ask. 

“then go home.”

“you don’t own the park.” he chuckles heartily, and it somehow even makes you roll your eyes during your misery. “and why are you here?” suguru whistles.

“because i can.” 

“then i can too.” he says as he rests himself on the swing beside yours like he always has, an uncomfortable silence between the two of you for a minute or two. “you drunk?”

“are you?” you raise an eyebrow. 

“yeah.” he nods, holding up his crushed can.

suguru never remembers anything when he’s drunk. and you don’t think he’s lying since his typical bun is disheveled. it’s too many strands out of the hair ties grasp to be considered to be a sober suguru. you’re kinda glad he’s not sober to remember this state of yours by sunrise tomorrow. 

“well I’m drunk then too.” you laugh, and he grins at the sound of your odd joy.

“cool.”

more silence between the both of you.

“suguru, why did you kiss me this morning  if you don’t like me?” you blurt, and you keep your head low in case your eyes suddenly spill tears you don’t mean to.

he’s silent. 

you feel your body burning in embarrassment once more, and you stand from your seat, so you can possible run out of there, but when you try, you feel a familiar hand grabbing on to yours.

“don’t leave.” he whispers, and you glance to see his eyes looking weak as they stare into yours. 

“then tell me why you did it.” you mutter.

“i felt like it. it was just because, i was still tired, and i wasn’t thinking straight. i didn’t mean to do that to you.”

you wish he could have just been honest and told you the real reason. suguru doesn’t do things for no simple reason such as human impulses, and he must think you’re dumb to believe him.

“be honest suguru.”

“i’m telling you the truth.” 

“don’t lie.”

“im not ready for a relationship.” he starts, “and i guess i really liked how your makeup looked, since you forgot to take it off when we hung out last night. the smudged eyeliner, and you know…” suguru shrugs. 

shoko did your makeup like how she does hers typically earlier that yesterday afternoon. didn’t that mean he just saw a piece of her in you at that moment? and that’s why he was 

tempted? to get a sample of what it must be like to kiss her? sure you both don’t look alike, but men are primal creatures, and they simply focus on the idiotic things rather than the big picture. he liked you, because you resembled her for a split second with smudged  burgundy lips. 

you don’t think he knew that, but you couldn’t say that to him without breaking down at the seam at the moment, so you keep silent for another moment to compose whatever you have right now.

“oh. okay.” you decide to say  in the end, about to start walking again, but he again tugs you back. 

“you’re leaving?”

you thought he was joking when he said don’t leave. but if rationale says to leave him, you just shake your head no, and you go back to sitting ‘a bit too close to comfort’ kinda close to him on the swings.

he doesn’t speak, using his hand to rest on your thigh. you let your own hand rest on that hand. you’re happy he’s kind enough to let you do that. 

you would regret this night, but you’re going to blame the alcohol you had to say that this was your last hurrah before highschool was over. 

you two don’t look at each other, just looking at whatever. you soon see the broken down car from the morning, but it wasn’t enough for you to want to start a conversation. it’s still sitting there. like you guys are. 

ironic as it was, for the rest of the night, under the full moon, you both didn’t speak as you remained there, and simply enjoyed the presence of each other in these moments. 

[harlowarchives]

I got an request girly!

One is just for fluff with jack - so maybe the reader is secretly planning an vacation for Jack because all he does is work and Jack get suspicious about it. But at the end he’s just super happy and emotional.

I’ll send some more soon😉

❝ sex on the 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇!

hi my babies! so this is 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲 my second post of the day depending on how long this takes but thank you sexy for the request, i love you guys 𝐄𝐍𝐉𝐎𝐘.

↳ listen to sex on the beach by partynextdoor, unthinkable by alicia keys & passion fruit by drake.

𝐍𝐎 warning today, all fluff & language!

After a long day, you were ready to jump into bed with your husband but he was nowhere to be found. “Baby!” You called out a grin on your face, no answer. “Jack, I'm home.” You rubbed your temples & walked toward his office, he was writing in his book with his headphones on. He looked over & held a finger up as you rolled your eyes fluttering your lashes, you walked toward him & placed your hands on his shoulders massaging all the spots that were usually sore “Babe, I'm sorry but I need to focus. You know I love your massages.” Jack said with an apologetic look on his face. You sighed and walked out of the room & began concocting a plan to get him out of the office, you sat on the couch and started making calls to clear his schedule. You were close with most of his partners & associates so getting them to extend deadlines was easy, they all knew Jack needed the break.

Three hours later you were done, you had successfully & single-handedly cleared Jack’s schedule & booked a vacation to Morroco.

You sat on the couch hearing Jack’s office door open as he walked down the hall “Baby, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to be so dismissive earlier you deserve more attention than that, but these deadlines god so exhausting I have a studio session tomorrow I apologize Y/N.” Jack walked toward you & sat on the couch kissing your neck but you just nodded “Yea, um hm.” You looked at your phone looking at things you could do on the trip “Y/N for real?” He groaned looking at your screen but you quickly turned it so he couldn't see what you were planning. ���What are you doing?” he spoke attempting to pull your phone from your hand but failing “Yo, who are you talking to?” he said slowly emphasis on every word pinning you against the couch, you didn't budge. “Nobody, J. I'm going to bed,” You grumbled walking to the bedroom.

At around midnight, Jack couldn't sleep he heard your phone buzz. A text appeared on your phone he picked up your phone, and a message from an unknown number ‘Done, but you can thank me later you know how doe ;)’ Jack sat up in the bed. He was fucking pissed off, he sat awake for hours until he couldn't think about it anymore.

» 𝟎𝟎𝟏. morning!

You woke up to cook Jack’s favorite breakfast, and after thirty minutes the bedroom door opened Jack walked into the kitchen pouring a glass of orange juice “Good morning, babe.” You placed a kiss on his neck smiling from ear to ear “I made your favorite, I know you've been working really hard and my baby deserves the best.” You looked at his face he was clearly annoyed, “Jack?” concern in your tone “Let me ask you a question you know, how hard I work yet you give up on me that fast because I didn't give you attention? Come on what the fuck!” Jack visibly getting more upset, “Huh?” you had no idea what he meant. “Really Y/N? Dude who texted you at 12 or hiding your phone.” You handed him your phone “Show me.” You demanded as he unlocked your phone with face id. He showed you the message “Look that number up in your phone J.” You began to laugh as he pulled out his phone, Drama’s number coming up. “Why was Drama sending smirking emojis?” You laughed in defeat “Jack, I'm taking you on vacation.”

His face changed “I know you've been wanting to go to Morroco & I pulled some strings to clear your schedule for three weeks. I have to bake 400 cupcakes for him but being with you was worth it.” His mouth quickly formed into an ‘O’

“You went out of your way to do that for me?” A smile spread across his face. “Jack when we said those vows I meant every word, I’d do anything for you.” You smiled, as he opened his arms “C’mere, pumpkin.”

He smiled “Thank you. I'm sorry for even thinking you'd do that I know you wouldn't I'm tweaking because I haven't been getting any sleep & I have a lot on my plate, still no excuse.” He said his hand on the back of your head, your face buried in his chest.

“I love and appreciate you, you're the most amazing wife I could ever ask for.”

𝐒𝐎 𝐡𝐨𝐰'𝐝 𝐢 𝐝𝐨? 𝐥𝐦𝐤.

🏷️ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 ⁱ : @lexxlovesjack @iknowdatsrightbih @iheartharlow @livsters @honeyharlows @killatravtramp @jackmanduh @itsyagirljaz

[angelsleepinggurl]

𝟎𝟎𝟏-𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 | 𝕙𝕠𝕟𝕖𝕪𝕡𝕚𝕖 | 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

There she sits, near the window of the lifeless room overflowing with books. Her hair is bound messily in a bun which rests upon her head. The pencil she claimed to have lost, inside the frizzy mess. Golden streams come pouring through the window, beautifying her annoyed-looking face; she sighs and flips one of the books on her desk. Though in this entanglement of stress, Y/N was the calmest she had been all week. Y/N smiles softly at that thought.

" Y/N, there you are!" The girl lifts her head, and her eyes meet the familiar brown eyes of Sugawara Koshi. Though his hair looks as cold as winter, his smile always outshines that. The boy notices how much of a mess the girl looks, and his face drops slightly. Her relationship was having a significant effect on her, and she most likely did not realise.

" Why did you get all sad for?" Y/N laughs, lightly punching the worried boy as he sits down beside her.

"Nothing, nothing." he shakes it off; Y/N playful rolls her eyes at him as she starts gathering her books. "Say, Y/N?" he looks down at the table, as the girl replies with a muffled 'Mhm.' "I noticed you don't have anyone to work with for our class science project,"

Y/N stops chewing on her food and looks at the boy; " I could help you. Only if you want me to, of course." The girl's smiles brightly at the suggestion and nods. Though she won't admit it, she has been struggling to keep up with all the things in her life.

The day rolls by slowly, and Y/N finds it harder to stay focused on classes. Her mind swarms and buzzes with the words her boyfriend had said about her. She was starting to consider if what he said was true and not just said from pure irritation.

"Y/N?" the teacher's voice slaps Y/N back into reality. She senses the eyes of her class on her like knives gradually deepening into her skin. "Could you read the first two paragraphs for us, please?"

Y/N kills the strong urge to yell at the old man before she starts reading out to the class. The frustrated girl realises its more clever to read quickly so she could sit down quicker, so she does. She reads so fast no one could comprehend that she finished. " Thank you um ... Y/N", the teacher utters, continuing with the lesson. No one could see the girls mischievous grin as she hides her face behind her towering collection of unopened books.

The day, fortunately, whizzes by, and Y/N makes her way home, avoiding her boyfriend. She swings her house door open and begins to take off her shoes. No one was home. "I swear if they went to Mcdonalds or a fancy restaurant without bringing me any food, then I officially quit. " she says to herself, opening the fridge. After 20 minutes of opening and closing the fridge as if that would cause food to appear magically, she takes a couple of ice cubes and pops them in her mouth, going to lay on her bed.

Her rich (h/c), (h/l) hair is calmly arranged on her head as rays of sunlight caress her smooth skin. The sun, bringing out the richness in those mesmerising (e/c) orbs of hers, highlighting the tip of her nose. The girl's pillowy lips part as slow breath's escape her lips. If golden hour were a person, it would most definitely be (Y/N). She lays in bed, her phone above her face as she mindlessly scrolls through social media.

Yet her mind still runs back to the memory of her argument with the boy. Maybe he doesn't really mean it. Of course, he doesn't; he's not like that. Is he?

She shakes her head at the troubling thoughts racing in her mind and continues in her attempt to entertain herself.

[ven0ms]

𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝟎𝟎𝟏 ,   dying to see you ...

𝑨 𝑽𝑰𝑺𝑰𝑶𝑵 𝑰𝑵 𝑾𝑯𝑰𝑻𝑬 :   valeria white bear appears as an angel for this years halloween party !

[westworldhqs]

𝐖𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝟎𝟎𝟏 – 20th anniversary celebration.

Twenty years ago, to the day, WESTWORLD first opened its doors to the public. In the past two decades, Westworld has gone from an ambitious experiment to a mainstay in the American zeitgeist. Everybody who is anybody has crossed the threshold at least once – desperate for the chance to live without limits. For those without the capital to pay for a ticket, Westworld remains an elusive prize – a symbol of wealth and status attainable only for a select few – heard about only through stories that filter down from the wealthy and happen upon working class ears. Only to be talked about, but never to be seen. That is, at least, until now.

The TWENTIETH ANNIVERSARY CELEBRATION will be something particularly special. The first milestone event since RONAN RIGBY took the mantle of Park Director – and he has been rumoured to be pulling out all the stops, both to impress the guests, and to appease the shareholders. Guests and employees will be treated to a week-long festival held in Sweetwater, culminating in a town banquet, where Ronan Rigby will be delivering a televised broadcast across the country – allowing those who cannot otherwise afford to visit Westworld the chance to catch a glimpse of it.

For hosts, this week is spent celebrating the harvest festival – the farmers are returning to town with their fresh crops, and it appears to have been another prosperous season. This is a wonderful time of year in Sweetwater – spring in the air, plentiful food, and visitors from far and wide mean that the town is booming. Merchants will be touting fresh produce, saloon workers looking to lure guests in, pickpockets looking for an easy score – and all other hosts preparing a feast for the town banquet.

Months of planning has gone into this event – here's hoping it goes off without a hitch! Remember, the world will be watching.

TL;DR: To celebrate Westworld's 20th anniversary, employees, guests, and hosts are all taking part in a week-long festival, culminating in a town banquet that is to be televised across the United States. With this, we are now OPEN FOR INTERACTIONS. Make sure to plot with your fellow members and tag your starters with #westworld.start & #westworld.event!

[thaliablu3]

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alto, quem vem lá? oh, só podia ser THALIA BLUE MARTINEZ, a TUTORA DE RELAÇÕES INTERNACIONAIS de 31 anos que veio de Valbrume. você quase se atrasou hoje, hein? eu sei que você é normalmente confiante e leal, mas também sei bem que é evasiva e reservada, então nem tente me enganar. ande, estão te esperando; entre pela porta de trás.

𝟎𝟎𝟏 ———— the basics ：

apelidos: não tem (mas usem a criatividade de vocês, confio nisso)

data de nascimento: 09/12

zodíaco: sol em sagitário, lua em escorpião e ascendente em leão

gênero: mulher cis

sexualidade: bissexual-birromântica

status civil: viúva

aesthetics: livros, óculos de grau, roupas compostas e sociais, saltos altos de ponta, saias com fenda e joias de prata ou ouro branco.

𝟎𝟎𝟐 ———— the appearance ：

altura: 170cm

estilo do cabelo: longos, geralmente na altura da cintura ou pouco acima, ondulados/cacheados.

cor do cabelo: castanho escuro

cor dos olhos: castanho escuro

cicatrizes: não possui.

tatuagens: pequena frase na costela (lado esquerdo), pássaros na lateral do pescoço/nuca.

piercings: não possui.

𝟎𝟎𝟑 ———— the mind ：

traços positivos: Líder, Inteligente, leal, confiante e determinada;

traços negativos: temperamental, evasiva, reservada, egoísta e impulsiva; 

hobbies: ler, comer, pintar e correr;

hábitos: pressionar os pontos de tensão da nuca quando está desconfortável, respirar fundo para não perder o controle (e geralmente acaba perdendo), se silenciar e afastar quando sabe que está errada (e custa a admitir);  

vícios: álcool, preferência por vinhos, mas qualquer um serve e doces; 

gostos: dias de chuva, tons escuros, pôr do sol, cheiro de canela e livros novos;

desgostos: pessoas barulhentas, desorganização, cheiros muito doces (o mesmo vale para bebidas), lugares fechados;

𝟎𝟎4 ———— biography ：

A maioria das pessoas não se lembra de seus pensamentos quando tinha cinco anos, mas, sobre ter memória eidética, Thalia desejou nunca ter. Se você não gosta de coisas complexas, nunca tente entender Thalia Blue Martínez, porque ela provavelmente lhe fará perder noites de sono. Há uma teoria sobre a qual ela saiu de algum buraco escuro onde ninguém ousa a ir, mas, o que realmente aconteceu, começou sem que a mesma tivesse domínio sobre isso. 

Se você quer saber, Thalia nasceu dia nove de dezembro, na província de valbrume, lugar onde a magia acontece. Ela foi a primeira e única filha do casal Sebastian e Francesca, um psicólogo da corte francesa, já falecido, e uma atriz de grande renome dentro do país. Ainda nos primeiros anos de sua vida a inteligência notável que possuía ficou evidente, a garota aprendera a ler perfeitamente com quatro anos, quase na mesma época em que aprendeu a contar até vinte, fora nessa época também que seus pais notaram um fato interessante, Thalia era muito boa em lembrar de tudo. Se lhe diziam uma sequências, mesmo que ela parecesse complicada, ela a repetia, como se aquilo fosse algo normal. Com isso, os Martínez decidiram educar sua pequena com tudo que lhes fosse possível bancar. Isso correu bem, de fato correu muito bem. Ela passava a maior parte do tempo com sua mãe, que gostava de ficar e cuidar dela, enquanto seu pai em geral estava no trabalho. Tudo ia bem até o dia de neve em que Thalia perdeu tudo.

TW: morte, acidente de carro. 1

Eles estavam voltando de uma peça, havia muita neve na estrada e muita neve caindo. Dentro do carro tocava uma ópera e seus pais conversavam e cantavam animadamente. Sim, realmente tudo parecia perfeito, até que em poucos segundos de distração, Sebastian perdeu o controle e o carro derrapou na pista, rolando penhasco a baixo. Thalia, estava usando o cinto devidamente, mas o mesmo não poderia ser dito dos pais. A garota ficou sozinha e desacordada dentro do veículo quando o socorro chegou. Seus pais? Pedaços espalhados pelo penhasco. A garota ficou desolada, entrou em estado de choque, passou meses sem dizer uma palavra. Os avós assumiram com pesar a sua guarda, e tentavam de tudo para que ela voltasse a ser a garota feliz de antes, mas ela seguia reprimindo os sentimentos e se isolando. 

FIM DO TW. 1

Thalia não andava mais de carro, e tão pouco saia de casa nos dias neve ou de chuva. Ela tomava sempre conduções, trens e afins. E a vida seguiu desta maneira. Ela começou o curso de relações internacionais, e lá conheceu o grande amor da sua vida, Paul. Os dois foram como imãs que se atraem e não se soltam nunca mais. O namoro foi curto e o casamento logo veio. Eles pareciam ter sido feitos um para o outro. Paul completava as frases de Thalia, e vice-versa. O casamento rendeu a eles um filho, Estevão. 

TW: morte, acidente de carro. 2

A vida era boa e tudo ia bem, até que um dia a família decidiu fazer uma viagem. Thalia ainda trabalhava o seu medo de veículos, mas aceitou voltar para dentro de um com sua família. Era um dia de sol, Paul era responsável, o que de mal poderia acontecer? O destino tão traiçoeiro e cruel, fez com que Thalia perdesse mais uma vez sua família num acidente de carro. Desta vez, um motorista embriagado foi o problema. Ele acabou por cruzar o sinal e acertar o carro ao lado do motorista. Paul e Estevão morreram na hora, e Thalia ficou em coma por alguns meses, lutando pela vida. Ao acordar, ela teve o choque da perda outra vez. Mas desta não houve silêncio. Coisas foram atiradas pelas paredes, gritos rasgaram a garganta e o choro era incessante. Ela havia perdido tudo outra vez.  

FIM DO TW

Quando ela teve alta do hospital, não conseguia retornar para casa. Tudo lembrava a família, que ela agora não tinha mais. Entrar no quarto do filho e ver os brinquedos espalhados, a cama vazia e a ausência do pequeno, foram demais para a morena. Perder Paul doía, mas não tanto quanto perder Estevão. Foi por essa dor que Thalia decidiu fazer da sua carreira sua vida. Focar na profissão a fez viajar o mundo, conhecer novos lugares, pessoas e culturas, mas o vazio continuava assolando o seu peito, era hora de voltar para casa. Coincidentemente, a Martínez voltou bem a tempo da seleção, e por mais que fosse contra a ela, não deixou de candidatar-se a vaga de tutora das selecionadas, afinal aquelas mulheres precisariam de toda ajuda possível para lidar com aquele novo mundo, e Thalia ainda não conseguia retornar para sua província, então era melhor assim.

005  ———— the headcanons:

Reservada, Thalia não é de compartilhar sua vida com outras pessoas. Talvez por isso seja tão difícil criar qualquer tipo de relacionamento;

Observadora, essa é com certeza a palavra que define Thalia. Quieta e silenciosa, ela é de falar muito apenas quando e o que lhe convém;

Tem a mente ainda um pouco perturbada com os traumas da infância  tendo alucinações algumas vezes;

apesar de toda a frieza, dentro da muralha que Thalia criou para se mesma, a uma mulher de bom coração;

[vwestergaard]

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Por Glinda e sua varinha mágica! Olha só se não é VERENA WESTERGAARD caminhando pelos corredores da torre dos PESADELOS. Por ser filha de HANS WESTERGAARD, é previsto que ela deseje seguir caminhos parecidos com o dos pais. Ao menos, é o que se espera de alguém com 26 anos, mas primeiro ela precisará concluir o módulo II, para depois se assemelhar como um conto de fadas.

Novo Conto: Arrebatado - Créscida, a solitária

𝟎𝟎𝟏 ———— the basics ：

dragonball: rebatedora dos escorpiões

apelidos: Vee

data de nascimento: 11 de novembro

zodíaco: sol em escorpião, lua em câncer e ascendente em libra

gênero: mulher-cis

sexualidade: bissexual-homoromântica

aesthetics: joias, terra e plantas, esmeralda e golden.

filiação: Hans Westergaard (pai); princesa Ophelia Ashdown-Westergaard

𝟎𝟎𝟐 ———— the appearance ：

altura: 163cm

estilo do cabelo: mediano ou longo. algumas vezes chega a tingir as pontas com rosa, vinho, vermelho ou azul.

cor do cabelo: loiro

cor dos olhos: verdes

cicatrizes: tem uma na sobrancelha esquerda, devido uma queda que levou quando criança, acabou precisando levar quatro pontos na região.

tatuagens: não possui.

piercings: brincos em ambas as orelhas, piercing no septo, um piercing no tragus da orelha esquerda e daith da direita.

𝟎𝟎𝟑 ———— the mind ：

traços positivos: inteligente, sociável, sagaz, observadora, leal e ambiciosa;

traços negativos: egocêntrica, temperamental, possessiva e orgulhosa; 

hobbies: voar, nadar, cozinhar e escrever;

hábitos: morder a parte interna dos lábios, ou bochechas, quando esta ansiosa, balançar ou bater o pé quando está impaciente com alguma coisa, passar a língua entre os lábios (motivo ainda desconhecido, faz desde que consegue se lembrar);  

vícios: drinks cítricos, comidas ácidas e salgadas; 

gostos: noites estreladas, cheiro de terra molhada, a textura dos cabelos molhados, sorrisos, caminhadas em qualquer espaço que seja e longas conversas;

desgostos: pessoas superficiais, dias muito quentes, pássaros cantando;

𝟎𝟎4 ———— biography ：

Peculiar, talvez essa seja realmente a melhor palavra para descrever um Westergaard, pois dizem as más línguas de Arendelle, que nenhum deles funciona muito bem, são ariscos, traiçoeiros e rasteiros. Claro que não passam de boatos, mas ainda assim Verena nasceria para provar que algumas maçãs não precisam obrigatoriamente cair perto de suas árvores, ou nem muito distante delas.

Nascida na noite mais gelada daquele outono, Verena anunciava não só a sua chegada como a de um dos invernos mais frios que o reino passaria. Nenhuma lágrima foi derramada de seu rosto ao deixar o calor do ventre de sua mãe, nem mesmo quando o médico deu-lhe umas palmadinhas para que o fizesse. Ela apenas respirou profundamente, mostrando que os pulmões funcionavam bem, garantindo que estava viva e nada além. Ela foi uma das crianças mais caladas que você pode imaginar, não fazia birra, não chorava, não pedia por nada. Gostava apenas de observar. Foi com cinco anos, que notou a diferença do tratamento entre ela e o irmão mais velho, ele recebendo sempre um pai caloroso, que via no primogênito a sua imagem e semelhança, algo a ser moldado. Enquanto Verena recebia sempre meios sorrisos, ausências e indiferença. Ela não tinha nada a oferecer para ele, nem mesmo seu nome iria carregar ao casar, por isso costumava ser ignorada. 

Para muitos isso poderia ser motivo de revolta, para Verena foi o atestado de sua liberdade. Tão nova, ela já tinha concluído que poderia fazer o que quisesse e Hans Westergaard jamais iria se importar. Tola criança, sua conclusão ignorava o óbvio, que ela apesar de tudo era uma propriedade, moeda de troca e deveria se portar com alguma classe que fosse. Isso ficou claro ao chegar da puberdade, quando Hans começou a oferecer a filha para casamentos com outros reinos, as possíveis alianças diplomáticas e tudo que ele poderia obter com aquela garota vieram à tona da noite pro dia, mudando completamente a dinâmica pai e filha como ela conhecia. De repente começaram as aulas de etiqueta, as cobranças, as exigências. Ele tentava colocar suas mãos na vida dela, como fizera com seu irmão por muitos anos. Mas Verena não foi tão fácil assim. 

Jamais fez o tipo rebelde, mas convenhamos que quando você tem o controle da sua vida desde pequena, é um pouco difícil cedê-lo para outra pessoa, principalmente seu ambicioso pai. Ela começou tentando queimar a própria imagem nos jantares diplomáticos, encenando surtos psicóticos que não existiam, aparecendo desarrumada, causando algum tipo de confusão, mandando a dama de companhia em seu lugar. Qualquer coisa valia para que Hans a enxergasse como ela era e não outra extensão de si mesmo. Seguiram essa dança por longos anos, até que ela ingressasse em Tremerra e assinasse seu nome no livro dos eternos, revelando o destino egoísta e solitário que teria. Hans encarou aquilo como punição suficiente para os feitos da filha, e ela apenas o ignorou como sempre fazia, pois para Verena nada era perfeitamente definido, ela viveria sua vida antes de viver a de Crescida. E se pudesse, fugiria antes de ter que vivê-la.  

005  ———— the powers:

Controle de libido: O poder da a capacidade de induzir desejo sexual nos corpos dos oponentes, desviando o foco deles em batalha. É burlado por aqueles com mentes focadas o suficiente para não deixarem se levar por desejos carnais, mas com o passar dos níveis isso se provará uma tarefa bem árdua.

006  ———— the daemon:

wasabi é um dragão macho (jovem adulto) de escamas escuras e sombrias como a noite e chamas verdes como esmeraldas, ou como wasabi, por isso o nome.

[arkynhaddock]

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Por Glinda e sua varinha mágica! Olha só se não é ARKYN HADDOCK caminhando pelos corredores da torre das NUVENS. Por ser filho de HICCUP E ASTRID, é previsto que ele deseje seguir caminhos parecidos com o dos pais. Ao menos, é o que se espera de alguém com 28 anos, mas primeiro ele precisará concluir o módulo ESQUADRÃO VIL, para depois se assemelhar como um conto de fadas.

Novo Conto: Os Bárbaros - Mark, a Guerra

Leitura recomendada (não é obrigatória, posso resumir para você, só chegar no chat) para compreensão de onde o personagem se encontra atualmente:

𝑈𝑟𝑠𝑢𝑙𝑎'𝑠 𝑢𝑛𝑏𝑖𝑟𝑡ℎ𝑑𝑎𝑦 _ 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑠 𝑎 𝒑𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒗𝒊𝒆𝒘! - Síntese de todos os povs anteriores e momentos importantes para desenvolvimento do char.

ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑖𝑡 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒𝑔𝑎𝑛_ 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑠 𝑎 𝒑𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒗𝒊𝒆𝒘! - Entenda Arkyn e sua dor.

𝟎𝟎𝟏 ———— the basics ：

Ex-Capitão dos leões

apelidos: Kyn

data de nascimento: 27/12/1996 (vinte e oito anos)

zodíaco: sol em capricórnio, lua em touro e ascendente em leão

gênero: cis-masculino

sexualidade: bissexual-birromântico

aesthetics: hematomas, livros e diários, jaquetas surradas, calças desbotando, botas de couro, azul oceano e safira, e cordões.

filiação: Hiccup Haddock (pai), Astrid Hofferson (mãe)

𝟎𝟎𝟐 ———— the appearance ：

altura: 180cm

estilo do cabelo: é comum que esteja mediano, as vezes raspado nas laterais e um pouco alto no meio. um estilo de corte militar, por assim dizer. 

barba e bigode: quando os dois, acaba optando por uma combinação meio rala, aquele aspecto de barba por fazer.

cor do cabelo: castanho claro

cor dos olhos: verdes

cicatrizes: grande corte nas costas, uma linha no queixo do lado esquerdo e outra pouco acima do olho direito, mas o cabelo costuma escondê-la.

tatuagens: não possui.

piercings: brinco de diamante, e um piercing no tragus. ambos na orelha esquerda.

𝟎𝟎𝟑 ———— the mind ：

traços positivos: Líder, Inteligente, leal, confiante e determinado;

traços negativos: temperamental, explosivo, possessivo, egocêntrico, egoísta e impulsivo; 

hobbies: ler, comer, pintar e correr;

hábitos: pressionar os pontos de tensão da nuca quando está desconfortável, respirar fundo para não perder o controle (e geralmente acaba perdendo), se silenciar e afastar quando sabe que está errado (e custa a admitir);  

vícios: cigarro, cerveja e doces; 

gostos: dias de chuva, tons escuros, pôr do sol, cheiro de canela e livros, a textura da areia úmida de praia entre os dedos dos pés;

desgostos: pessoas barulhentas, desorganização, cheiros muito doces (o mesmo vale para bebidas), lugares fechados;

𝟎𝟎4 ———— biography ：

Nascido numa das famílias mais propensas a cuidar bem de um dragão, Arkyn não poderia fazer mais jus ao seu legado. Desde garoto que era fascinado pelas criaturas, pedindo para que os pais contassem repetidas vezes as suas histórias de dragões, até que o garotinho pegasse no sono. E por tantas outras o garotinho montava armadilhas para capturar um dragão que fosse, apenas para que pudesse chamar de seu. Tão impaciente quando Astrid, queria tudo ao seu tempo, mas teve esperar como tantos outros, observando sempre de longe a beleza e magnitude daquelas criaturas, até que assinasse o livro e tivesse seu ovo em mãos. Só os deuses sabiam o quanto ele esperou por aquele momento. E até hoje Arkyn jura que naquele instante em que suas mãos tocaram a superfície escamosa do ovo, sentiu seu coração bater na palma das mãos, alinhando-se com o que existia ali dentro. 

E simples assim ele finalmente teve tudo que sempre quis. Passava horas do dia cuidando do seu ovo, conversando as coisas mais aleatórias com ele, tratando-o como confidente. Até que finalmente a dedicação fosse recompensada e o ovo eclodisse. Foi um dia de grande festa. Safira era um dragão fêmea de escamas branco gelo, com as pontas azuladas. E eles tinham a maior conexão que Arkyn poderia imaginar e querer, como duas partes de um só, estavam sempre juntos (quando podiam), completamente inseparáveis. Até que não estavam mais. 

TW: Violência, Sangue e Morte do Animal. 

Foi tudo muito rápido e até hoje Arkyn tem apenas lampejos de tudo que aconteceu, como se inconscientemente tivesse bloqueado a lembrança para sofrer menos. Em um instante ele estava de pé com Safira, no outro sentira um forte queimor nas costas, seguido de uma sensação molhada que lhe escorria até a lombar. A mão direita tocou a região e voltou a frente, constatando o que imaginava, era sangue ali. Virou-se abruptamente para encarar seu agressor, mas outra vez foi tudo muito rápido e o golpe veio na cabeça. Ele caiu no chão, a visão embaçada e turva, desfocou a cena seguinte. Safira literalmente lutando com unhas, garras e dentes para protegê-lo. Mas ela ainda era tão pequena, tão frágil, tão… vulnerável. Subitamente uma dor aguda, como uma adaga sendo cravada, surgiu no fundo do peito de Arkyn e ele desmaiou. 

Fim do TW. 

Ao acordar no ambulatório, três dias depois do ocorrido, seus olhos buscaram por Safira ao seu redor, mas ele não sentia mais aquela conexão que sentiu no instante em que suas mãos tocaram o ovo. Longos foram os dias de profunda tristeza e melancolia, ele tinha perdido sua melhor amiga, sua outra metade, não havia como esperar nada diferente disto. Sua família tentou acolhe-lo e confortá-lo, mas Arkyn apenas os afastou, assim como fez com os amigos. O jovem sonhador e esperançoso morreu naquele ataque que ele nem sabia o motivo, junto com Safira. E o que saiu de lá foi um homem quebrado e vazio.

005  ———— the powers:

Estado elétrico: É a capacidade de carregar o corpo inteiro com uma corrente elétrica, transformando Arkyn em um condutor. Nesse estado, qualquer coisa que entrar em contato com ele, recebe uma descarga considerável de energia, podendo até chegar a óbito. Vale também a ressalva que quando entra no estado elétrico, Kyn  perde um tanto o controle da sua mente e se torna mais agressivo que o normal. Portanto, é um poder que não usa comumente.

[loveofhearts]

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Por Glinda e sua varinha mágica! Olha só se não é BEVERLY OF HEARTS caminhando pelos corredores da torre DOS PESADELOS. Por ser filho de RAINHA DE COPAS, é previsto que ele deseje seguir caminhos parecidos com o dos pais. Ao menos, é o que se espera de alguém com 26 ANOS, mas primeiro ele precisará concluir o MÓDULO I, para depois se assemelhar como um conto de fadas.

Novo Conto: Amor hediondo: Adawolf, o lobisomem.

𝟎𝟎𝟏 ———— the basics ：

apelidos: Bev

data de nascimento: 25 de março

zodíaco: sol em aries, lua em leão e ascendente em touro

gênero: homem-cis

sexualidade: bissexual-biromântico

aesthetics: joias, cartas, bengala, tons de branco e cinza.

filiação: iracebeth of hearts (mãe adotiva)

𝟎𝟎𝟐 ———— the appearance ：

altura: 188cm

estilo do cabelo: curto e encaracolados.

cor do cabelo: castanho escuro

cor dos olhos: castanho escuros

cicatrizes: maçã do rosto esquerda, que se estende até o queixo, pegando parte do lábio inferior.

tatuagens: incontáveis.

piercings: diamantes nas orelhas e piercing na sobrancelha.

𝟎𝟎𝟑 ———— the mind ：

traços positivos: extrovertido, confiante, leal e ambicioso;

traços negativos: carente, reservado, preguiçoso e orgulhoso;

hobbies: jogos de aposta, bebidas e dançar;

hábitos: bater com o indicador no cotovelo contrário quando está impaciente, bocejar com frequência quando entediado, ficar enrolando os cachinhos com o indicador, apenas para distrair ou se concentrar muito em algo;

vícios: apostas, café e frutas; 

gostos: sair de noite, roupas e joias de marca, carros esportivos, cheiro de ervas, tecidos de seda contra a pele;

desgostos: conversas maçantes e longas, atividades extraclasse, pessoas muito felizes;

𝟎𝟎4 ———— biography ：

o carinho de Iracebeth por Beverly viria antes mesmo dela cogitar a possibilidade dele nascer, mas vamos por partes. A rainha, era conhecida em todo o mundo por sua loucura, falta de piedade e decapitação injustificada. Poucos atrelariam doçura ou piedade a figura de Iracebeth e tudo bem, pois ela não queria o amor de todos, apenas daqueles poucos pelos quais sentia-se atraída, e isso incluía Agnes, uma das damas mais simples da corte, mas de uma beleza arrebatadora, capaz de deixar qualquer um aos seus pés, inclusive a rainha. Os cortejos levaram ao romance discreto, promessas de um futuro e tudo mais que pode ser atribuído a um coração apaixonado, sim, apenas um o de Iracebeth, já que Agnes tinha outros planos e outros amores a vista.

A dama envolveu-se com um dos valetes, e essa foi a maior traição que poderia ter cometido como a rainha, que tomada em sua dor e ciúmes, ordenou a decapitação de Agnes e seu companheiro, algo que teria sido rápido e indolor se não fosse a mulher gritando no meio de sua execução que esperava uma criança. Agnes assistiu a morte do seu companheiro e fora aprisionada nas torres por meses, até que desse a luz. O choro estridente ecoou pelo castelo, despertando o rainha de seu sono noturno, afirmando que era hora de libertar sua prisioneira. Agnes fora executada na mesma noite e como último desejo, pediu a Iracebeth que poupasse o menino, mas não teve garantia alguma da rainha que lutava internamente com a mágoa acumulada e o amor que ainda sentia por aquela que havia partido.

A medida em que crescia, Bervely se parecia cada vez mais com Agnes, era doce, divertido, brincalhão e extremamente amável. A lembrança daquela que um dia encheu seus dias, estava viva naquele garoto e isso era doloroso demais para se encarar. Ela o afastava cada vez mais, era fria e distante, mas não o matou, o que era um sinal de sua empatia, do seu coração amolecendo pela criança. Ao avançar da idade, ele começou a fazer perguntas: de quem era filho? ela era sua mãe? quem era seu pai? Cansada de tantos questionamentos, a rainha apenas garantiu que ele lhe pertencia, estava sob seu cuidados e ninguém o machucaria. Isso deveria bastar, não? Mas Beverly sempre quis mais da mulher, queria seu afeto de fato, queria ser seu filho.

O que sempre lhe restou fora a segurança, um nome de peso em seus ombros e nada mais. Ao crescer sua personalidade foi mudando um pouco, deixou a carência afundar no mais profundo de seu ser e o que existia na superfície era um homem de gostos tão peculiares quanto os da rainha que o criou. Preencheu as ausências que tinha com tudo que o dinheiro poderia comprar, mas seguia vazio de afeto. Quando a rainha o mandou para Tremerra, imaginou ser um ato de carinho, queria dar-lhe uma boa educação, pois sempre lhe deu tudo. Mas não, ela estava apenas cumprindo algo que sempre foi incapaz de fazer, acabar com a vida daquele que simbolizada a maior traição que já vivera, o livro dos eternos faria isso por ela, lhe daria um destino pior do que perder a cabeça, e Beverly sentia exatamente assim.

005  ———— the powers:

Aprisionamento em Carta: Beverly sempre se mostrou bom com baralhos, nada surpreendente quando se vive no castelo da Rainha de copas. Mas bem, ao passar por tremerra ele descobriu que podia aprisionar oponentes em suas cartas de baralho, bastava atingi-los com as cartas, ou até mesmo fazer o toque acontecer e pronto, guardado até segunda ordem. Uma vez aprisionade, a pessoa é arrastada para um tipo de cadeia em universo paralelo, onde seus medos e pesadelos viram realidades; essa cadeia funciona como uma versão de Wonderland, só que sem maravilhas.

006  ———— the daemon:

valquíria, um dragão fêmea de escamas brancas e olhos azuis. Quando em meio as nuvens, é quase impossível de detectar o animal que se camufla graças a sua coloração. Costuma ter o humor julgador, não se aproximando facilmente de outros humanos ou daemons.