#and have to spend the whole time trying not to be killed by the higher ups who view them as expendable

[bookplush]

sorry to be a shill but apple tv is free this weekend (they’re doing a promo thing) so if anyone wants to see what ive been up to lately, bingewatch ‘slow horses’ and join me in the brainrot

[everwalldigan]

To anyone who thinks Bruce has a clear and consistent favourite child I raise you this: it is infinitely funnier for Bruce to have a complicated and elaborate “ranking” system of his kids that only he’s privy to.

Picture this: Batman, dosed with truth serum, gets asked as a gag from one of the goons holding him captive who his favourite bat-vigilante is and instead of giving a straight answer, he launches into this whole explanation about the ranking system and who’s in the current lead, who’s hanging behind, etc. At some point (this is a mystery to everyone involved) a whiteboard appears and he starts explaining his system like he’s a football coach before an important match. Out of nowhere he starts pulling out little cardboard cutouts of his kids and pins them to the board. At some point the red string comes out.

Jason hasn’t killed someone in a week? Automatically promoted to favourite. Tim hasn’t caused an international incident in the past month? Puts him a few points ahead that keep decreasing the longer he refuses real sleep (20 minute power naps don’t count Tim! Says powernap inventor Bruce Wayne). Cass gave him a hug this morning and wished him a good day? Favourite until he gets a call from dick telling him (without shouting!!!!) that he’ll be there for this week’s Sunday dinner. Duke accidentally scratches the Batmobile? Demoted to the “in trouble” zone (which, honestly, that’s where his kids spend most of the time in😭). Damian did not attempt to free all the animals in the zoo they visited? Favourite. Until Bruce found out he was just trying to conceal the cat hidden in his room that Bruce explicitly forbade him from keeping.

Dick arrives at the family dinner with a busted shoulder and a bruise the size of Texas on his face? Gets demoted so far down that even azraeil scores higher than him. He’s in the “in trouble” zone for a constant month after that. Oh one of them survived an almost death? Favourite for at least the next week. At least. Multiple people survive an almost death? EVERYONES the favourite. The least favourite is the growing grey hairs on his head.

The end of day results are decided by who bothers to wish him goodnight and if all of them have fucked up in some way the past week then Jon (Kent) becomes the automatic favourite until someone cracks a joke that Bruce actually finds funny.

The favourite child changes daily, hourly even, and his kids are aware this system exists and keep trying to crack the code but he always Knows and just smirks smugly.

[beforetimes]

telepathy kink is always talked about but i loveee the way erik's relationship with charles' mutation is dependant on how much he trusts charles + how willing he would be to submit to charles should he ever use it. like in first class charles spends time flicking in and out of erik's head no issue because erik trusts charles and also when charles was in erik's head, he brought out a piece of happiness that erik no longer thought he had. so he's more willing to submit to charles' telepathy. and he puts the helmet on because he's more vulnerable directly after killing the man who was such a direct source of violence in his life and realizing that it wasn't enough—which probably shook erik to his core, because his whole life he's been hunting this one guy just to find that it's not over yet?

and then in days of future past, erik once again goes back to saying 'i don't have my helmet i couldn't disobey you if i wanted' which some people read as a taunt, some people read as him not accepting charles' mutation (which like? i don't think erik has ever not accepted him, but whatever) but i personally read it as erik once more trying to find his footing with charles after a decade apart.

anyway now that i talked about canon stuff i think specifically in the context of a sexual relationship, the telepathy stuff would be a way for erik to give up control over the situation and put his full trust in charles. which is important because a) erik is someone who thrives on being in control and finds it very important because so much of his agency was robbed of him and choosing to submit to a higher power than his own is something that insinuates a great deal of trust in the other party and b) charles is the only one who he could do this with because charles proved that he had the capacity to invade erik's mind and know him wholly and didn't take advantage of that and has shown time and time again he will help erik no matter what.

its also the fact that erik repeatedly implies that charles' telepathy will be used to control him when its a much more surface-level/baseline understanding that telepathy is the reading of minds rather than outright taking control of them. it's even in the definition of telepathy. but knowing charles can take control of him and constantly inviting him to (in an assumed sexual context, in this case) highlights how erik sort of longs to have responsibility for his actions taken away from him. which again can only be done by charles. not just because of his powers but because so many of his actions have directly hurt charles and he's the only one who can both metaphorically and physically relieve him of the culpability behind the consequences of what he's done when in complete control of himself. so again erik is someone who wants to relieve himself of his overly-controlling nature, his responsibilities, be completely vulnerable to someone who's seen him at his worst and loved him anyway.

and the only way erik can be all these things at once is by being under charles' control. (under the control of someone stronger than erik who has proven he will never hurt him with the power charles can exert over him).

so like sexually yes it's fun to say haha erik telepathy kink but also i think it is something much more tender which encapsulates the fact that erik is only this vulnerable with someone he has so much trust in and that person can only ever be charles because its only around charles he can truly be wholly himself. and so submissive erik is real to me #tbh

hope this makes sense i am kind of just rambling

[averycutesalamander]

Brighter than the Sun, Bigger than the Moon

wc: 8k. hurt/comfort, angst with a happy (kinda bittersweet?) ending, warning for vague mentions of sex. also up on ao3 if that's your preference

One of the greatest mysteries in the universe is that of soulmates.

They’ve existed for as long as history itself – perhaps even longer. No one knows if it’s the influence of an Aeon, or if it’s something stranger; the most recent theory is that Aha is behind it all, but it’s a joke to even think about getting a straight answer from THEM. Not every soul bond is the same, and they don’t even have to be romantic or sexual; plenty of them start and remain as entirely platonic, but either way, you have a partner for life. The details differ person-by-person as well; some have matching marks, some have a red string, some can't see color until they meet. 

Shared dreams are on the uncommon end of the spectrum - even more so when they live on different planets. Such is the case for you and the boy who will later be known as Boothill. 

When he first sees you in his dream, he thinks little of it; you’re another unknown face among a sea of strangers. He’s busy climbing a seemingly endless mountain, chasing a spectacularly evasive lizard that’s as large as a cow; Nick has just started talking about teaching him how to ride horses, and damn it all, he just can’t wait. Just when he manages to climb on its back, the earth shakes underneath him, and he starts to slide off – then, out of nowhere, you appear on the beast’s back, grabbing his hand and pulling him back on.

When he really sees you for the first time, he thinks your smile is brighter than the sun. 

Even as a kid, he's deeply charmed by you. When he mentions the friend he made in his dream one night during dinner, Nick and Graey are so overjoyed that they light up the whole room with their grins. You're his soulmate – but, really, all he cares about is that you're very funny and nice and are a lot of fun to play with. Every night, you talk and play games and run around in elaborate environments that the two of you create together. The dream can be static, if you want it to be – so the two of you make a giant oak tree in the middle of a field to mark your names on, and mutually decide to meet there every night. Eventually, you start to mark your heights on it; the notches get higher and higher every year, and you joke that you'll need to start climbing branches if he gets much taller. 

As a teen, he tries to teach you horseback riding, but it turns out that trying to do things that only one of you understands is a lot harder in the dream, especially when that task involves an animal that neither of you can quite control; eventually, you promise him that one day, you'll visit his home, and he can teach you in person. 

That's the thing, though. Neither of you have a damn clue where his planet is. You searched for it when he told you the name, the syllables clear and crisp on his tongue – but you can't find any matches, which leaves you with little to go on. And he certainly won't be able to find you, but…

Both of you try not to worry about it. You'll find some way to meet, eventually. You're soulmates, after all. 

You're with him as he grows into an adult, from a sweet boy to an equally sweet man, though he now reserves most of the sugar for you. You're with him the night after he makes his first kill, after the first bloody drops of justice stain his hands. You're with him the night after he claims his first bounty; when you ask how much he got for it, the two of you spend an embarrassing length of time trying to figure out the value of each other's currencies. You're with him the night after he takes his first bullet wound; though he's put on a strong face for Nick and Graey, he lets himself whine dramatically into your neck, bemoaning how fussy Graey has been and how he'll have to obey his order for bed rest, lest he invoke his wrath.

And every step of the way, he's with you, too - comforting you on bad days and celebrating with you on good ones, hugging you through friend breakups and laughing with you over inane drama. When one of your close friends dies, he holds you while you sob, gently rocking you; when you recover, he quietly asks if there's anything you want to do in the dream to remember them by – a memorial. With your voice raw and your lips trembling, you tell him about a tradition on your planet – one where you plant something in memory of the lost; you are obligated to care for it, naturally, and as the plant grows, you will heal with it as well. You decide to plant a cypress, not too far from the oak; he helps you pat down the dirt around it, the dust on your skin washing away with your tears. 

There are good times, too. On one of your birthdays, he tries to figure out how to conjure some malt juice for you to try – but the whiskey is awfully hard to get right, and the flavor never quite matches reality. You try to let him taste some bizarre fruity drink from your home, only to have the exact same problem. “Why is it sour?” you grouch, a cute little pout on your lips. “It should be sweet, and just a little tart!” He watches you speak with fond, dreamy eyes, soaking in your warmth like the sun. No, he thinks, the sun doesn't even compare. 

You're still fledgling adults when you first tell him you love him. 

You say it so simply, so easily, like it's the most obvious thing in the world; your head rests on your hands as you lounge in the pleasantly fuzzy grass, your eyes soft and tender in a way he never knows how to handle. “I love you,” you tell him, right in the middle of a fifteen-minute ramble about his latest bounty. 

He stops dead, every function in his brain going on pause. After a beat too long, he stutters, “I– Really?”

Your smile widens. “Yeah. Bigger than the moon.”

He throws up his brows dramatically, just in the way that always makes you laugh. “Really?” he drawls, faking skepticism. “The moon’s pretty fuckin’ big, sunshine.”

Your snicker makes his whole body light up with warmth. “Yeah, that's the point.”

As the two of you mature, you get closer - a lot closer, as soulmates often do. The night he chooses to kiss you isn't because of some other special event; perhaps the stars in your dream make you look just a bit more exceptional; perhaps you smile at him in a way that makes him a little too hungry; perhaps he just wants to do it for no reason in particular. Either way, he kisses you, clumsy and wanton and embarrassingly lovestruck, and you reciprocate with just as much passion, making sweet little noises into his mouth as he nibbles at your tongue with blunt teeth. 

It becomes routine, then. When he first leaves the waking world and enters your shared dream, he kisses you sweetly in greeting before asking about your day. When it's time to wake, he gives you another as a parting gift - deep and passionate and longing, some nights more than others. And with every night that passes, your touches get a little bolder, a little needier, a little hungrier; he licks into your mouth with enough fervor to steal your breath away, and you moan so prettily under him that he feels like his heart is going to burst from his chest. 

The topic of sex comes up eventually, if a bit hesitantly. Somehow, he's more shy about talking about it than you, but after some back-and-forth, both of you agree that you'd like to save it for the real thing. When he sinks into you for the first time, he wants to really feel you, wants to hold you in his arms, wants to nibble at your skin without an inch of distance between the two of you – because as wonderful as it is to kiss you in the dream, he just knows that it won't compare to the real thing. 

Eventually, he finds that little girl in the snow; as he tells you about her, about her cheeks rounded with baby fat, about her sweet brown eyes, about the way she tugs on his hair every chance she gets, you smile brilliantly enough to put the sun to shame. You ask what her name is, and he just shrugs. “Never been good at naming things,” he says; he named his first horse Blackjack because he won it in a game of blackjack - simple as that. You laugh – that sweet laugh that always makes his heart skip – and think about it for a time, staring at the impossible stars as you ponder. You rattle off a few names that you think would be cute, mostly just as an idle exercise - but when he hears "Clementine," his eyes light up. 

"That's the one," he tells you, staring at you with a love warm enough to melt ice. "That's her name. It's a cute one, ain't it, sunshine?”

He loves you. He's known for years, for his whole life, from the moment you reached down and offered him your hand; he loves you more than the sunlight, more than the shimmering stars in the sky, more than a fresh breeze on a hot summer day. He's always loved you, and not a damn thing will change that. 

He'll have to marry you, once the two of you finally meet in person; he thinks he wouldn't be able to look at your hands without imagining a pretty ring on your finger.

And then the men in black arrive. 

He's immediately wary, he tells you – but when he describes them in more detail, about the strange device they gave him that granted impossible knowledge, your expression darkens like the sky before a storm. He wishes he felt anything other than dread when you confirm his suspicions. 

“That's the IPC,” you mumble, your eyes distant and quietly resentful – he's never seen such a severe look on your face. “You should be careful, honey. They're always bad news, no matter where they go.”

Neither of you could anticipate just how right you were.

Once the fighting begins, your worry increases with every day that passes. “I know it's awful, sweetheart, but… You should try to find somewhere for your folks to escape to.” Your eyes are dull with terror – fear for him, for his family, for his home, for his life. “And you should go with them. No one wins against the IPC.”

He scoffs, prickling subtly. “You're tellin' me to just run? That I should just let ‘em do whatever the fuck they please?”

There's a gravity to your sorrow – like you're grieving a tragedy that hasn't happened yet. “Maybe you'll hate me for saying this, but… yeah, I think you should run.” You turn away from him, wiping your freshly budding tears away. He doesn't move to comfort you. “It's better to lose and survive than to lose and die. At least there would be something left.”

“We ain't gonna lose,” he spits, glowering at your back. He doesn't feel ready to wake up, but he doesn't want to be here anymore. “You'll see.”

It's the first fight you've ever had. 

Neither of you know that it will be the last. 

They lose. 

They're crushed beneath the cruel boot of absolute power, of weaponry that they can barely comprehend. One by one, his siblings, his friends – all of them die, their lives stolen in squabbles that they never win. 

For weeks, he doesn't meet you by the oak tree. For weeks, he takes refuge in the dark forest you once played in, the pine needles beginning to crumble from the withering trees. He thinks, and plans, and plots – but he does so alone, still fuming over his hurt pride. 

But his pride does nothing for him when the world is aflame, when his home has crumbled into charred wood, when his family has been reduced to ash, when his entire life has gone up in smoke. 

When he finally returns to the oak tree, you're already waiting there, your shoulders hunched and the air deathly still. The leaves on the oak are beginning to yellow at the edges; the grass in the field around you has begun to shrivel; the sky has been muddled with clouds so dark that they look like ink. 

For a long, long moment, he stands and stares, suddenly feeling as if he's been hollowed out. Then, as if you hear his heart crying out for you, you look up at him and his tear-smeared face and his red-rimmed eyes–

And you know. 

He falls to pieces in your arms. You don't breathe a word of anger to him – only quiet, futile comforts and gentle apologies. He cries so hard that he feels like he’s been gutted, like he’s been dissected, like he’s been bled out and left to dry. His anguish and regret and anger bleed from his eyes, staining your dream with grief. 

He's an idiot. He was such a fucking idiot, thinking it was a good idea to abandon you after that spat. It seems so goddamn stupid now that he's looking at your tired, worried face, now that he sees the evidence of your pain all around him, in the fields and in the sky. 

In that moment, he makes two promises to himself: 

One: he'll never leave you alone like that again, no matter what. Even if he's angry, even if he's annoyed, even if he has to go out of his way, even if fate itself tries to keep you apart – he will never leave you. 

Two: he's going to slaughter that man. 

“I'm gonna fuckin’ butcher him,” he rasps, his voice ragged from sobbing. “The one that gave the order. I'm gonna find that son of a bitch, and I'm gonna make him wish he weren't ever born.”

“Okay,” you respond quietly, like a wisp of smoke. “You'll… It'll be really difficult. If he's an executive…”

“I've got a plan.” His voice sounds more somber than he'd like, but the anger sank beneath the surface the moment he laid eyes on you again, the moment he saw the leaves withering on the oak tree. 

He tells you about the half-baked plan he's got brewing. He's going to commandeer a ship and find someone that can make him invincible. While he bears the weakness and complications of flesh and blood, while he's weighed down by his mortality, he'll never be able to slaughter his way to the top. 

So he'll cast aside his mortality, his morality, the sanctity of his body. 

He has to admit that he's grateful that you don't protest. You don't try to stop him, don't waste your time failing to convince him; you only listen, your eyes sad and dark. And in the following days, you earn his gratitude a thousand times over; when you search for his planet now, you get a match – and with your guidance in this new, terrifying world, he finds a mechanic that will help him begin his hunt in earnest. 

(You don't tell him about the official records that the IPC put down for his planet – how his people “died in a mysterious disaster.” His cup is already overflowing with rage; you worry that if it fills any further, he'll collapse.)

The night before he meets with the mechanic is a somber one. 

“Please be safe,” you whisper, as fragile as a breath of wind. “Please. Promise you'll come back to me.”

“I promise,” he tells you, firm and earnest. He reaches up, cupping your face in both hands, thick and rough with callouses. “I'll come back, sweetheart. I promise.” Almost hesitantly, tentative to bridge the gap, he presses a tender kiss to your lips. “I love you so much, sunshine.”

The smile you give him is tired and weary – dimmer than the stars. 

“I love you too,” you answer, your throat tight, “bigger than the moon.”

You'll be brighter than the sun again, one day – he'll be sure of it. Even if he has to strangle the light from the sky with his bare hands, he'll be sure of it. 

He's not quite prepared for the long, aching hours he spends in limbo, while his humanity is surgically removed and replaced with cold, unmoving steel. 

The darkness has seeped into every seam of his body, creeping into the cracks of his spirit like an invasive weed, the roots disturbing the fractured pieces of his heart.

He wonders, for a time, if any of this is worth it at all; if his family would even want him to strive for vengeance like this; if Nick and Graey would be happier if he settled down with you and forgot the bitter past, letting the wounds heal, letting the ash turn to dirt until it blooms with new growth. He can almost hear Graey’s voice in his ear. “Nothing can change the past, sweetpea. When something breaks and can’t be fixed, you have to let it go.”

He thinks of you – of your sad, tired eyes, of how desperately you held him when he last dreamed.

The heavy chains of grief bind him, sinking him deeper into the black.

But then he thinks of little Clementine, of her bright laughter, of her wobbling steps – and the doubt is incinerated in a fire hotter than the sun, the chains melting and reforming into an armor that cuts inside and out.

He claws his way out of the dark, his heart burning with rage, his chest aching with sadness.

“Congrats. You’re pretty hard to kill.”

He wants to laugh, bitter and acidic.

Yeah. Yeah, he sure is.

When he prepares to go into rest mode for the first time, a faint note of dread rings in his chest, sharp and inexplicable. Ever since he woke in this new body, he’s felt off – which is to be expected, of course, but…

This feeling – this disconnect, this vertigo, this tension – he can’t quite put his finger on it. And as he drifts into sleep, it nags at him, clinging like a tick.

Except–

It's like he only blinks. One moment, his systems are going into sleep mode, his heart pounding with anticipation; in the next, he's awake again. He checks the time, and it's four hours later. 

No.

No.

This can't be happening. This has to be a fluke. He has to be able to fix this.

He can't lose you. 

The next day, he slams open the door to the surgeon's dingy back office, his steel fists clenched and his eyes burning. When he demands answers, she merely shrugs with far too much nonchalance.

“Soulmates are pretty tricky. When I removed part of your brain to sync the rest to the neurochip, it probably screwed something up.” She watches him fume with an idle gaze, then shrugs again. “Sorry. It's not like you mentioned it or anything.” 

He grits his teeth so hard his jaw groans. “Fix it.”

She sighs, openly exhausted. “I can’t undo what’s already been done – just like I can’t restore your body. You’re out of luck.”

(He’s been out of luck for months.)

For a long, long moment, he considers riddling her full of bullets. But a sense of emptiness begins to sink into him, taking root in his chest, hollowing him out. He feels like he's going to be sick. 

He's lost his home, his family, his little Clementine, his life, his body, his dream– 

And now he's lost you, too. Because how could he ever find you in a cosmos as vast and infinite as this, when he's not even sure you ever told him the name of your planet?

Just like that, he has another person to grieve. 

And one of the worst things about it all? 

The IPC doesn't even have all of the blame. 

He spends the following years in a sort of daze, clinging to his hatred as an anchor – because it's all he has, now. He loses himself in violence – lets it seep into his core until it's fully saturated his soul. He fills the cracks with IPC blood until he's nearly unrecognizable, until he feels nothing but the visceral excitement that comes with bloodshed. He suffocates the grief under a thousand corpses, and piles on a thousand more for good measure. 

Whenever he dreams, now, it's always nightmares – something he's never had to deal with before, blessed as he was with your shared dream. The first is full of flames and ash. He scrambles desperately through miles of burning rubble, his fingers bleeding and broken; thousands of screams echo in his ears, but loudest of all is yours, ragged and broken as you beg him to find you, to come back to you, to join him in the fire – doesn't he want to rest? Doesn't he want to be with you? Doesn't he love you? 

“You promised,” you cry, so pained that he feels his heart shatter like glass. “You promised to come back to me.”

He wakes with a heaving breath, feeling very distinctly like he's about to hurl his guts out, his eyes burning with tears that will never spill again. 

The nightmares only get worse with time. He sleeps less and less, pushing his systems to the limit, getting upgrades that let him stay awake for longer and longer. 

And then, one night, after years of silence, he dreams that he's beneath the oak tree. 

The leaves have fallen off, the branches clawing at the black, starless sky. The plains around him are empty and dead, the grass blackened like a fire had raged through. In the far distance, he can see the forest the two of you once ran through; the trunks are bare and charred, and the ground below is coated with lifeless ash. 

Your dream is dead. 

But there, by the oak tree, just beneath the faded carvings of your names and the notches marking your heights…

A collection of plants, most of which take him some time to identify: the muted red leaves of a sapling spindle tree, tattered and worn; the tall stalks of an asphodel, its flowers dry and browning; bunches of primrose, whose blooms are paler than bone; stout meadow saffrons, whose petals are dusted with frost.

For a long moment, he wonders why they’re there–

And then he remembers what you did when your friend died, all those years ago – and his heart shatters into a thousand pieces, never to be repaired.

He finds himself there a few more times over the years, and it feels like a punishment every time. Most nights, the dream is more of a blur than anything, smeared and warping like he can't focus his eyes. He can't interact with it anymore; it feels more like he's a passing viewer, on the outside looking in through a window blurring with the pouring rain. Always just out of reach. 

Always missing you – if it’s even real at all.

On a few occasions, he swears he can hear you talking, your voice indecipherable, but clearly anguished. He mostly convinces himself that these are just delusions – mere wishful thinking. 

Once, all he hears is the heartwrenching sound of you sobbing. Maybe not wishful thinking, then. 

Every single time, he wonders what he did to earn a fate like this – to earn this kind of torment, this kind of pain, this kind of loss. 

No god ever answers.

And then, one day while he's chasing a bounty into a busy marketplace–

He sees you. 

He stops dead in the middle of shoving his way through the crowd, deaf to the protests of the people around him. From this angle, from between the moving bodies, the most he can see is a sliver of your face – but he could never forget the swell of your cheeks, the arch of your nose, the shape of your ears, the texture of your hair. It's only a little, but it's enough.

He abandons his bounty without a single thought in his head – now, he's weaving through the crowd with a different target in mind. He's getting closer, only a few bodies separating him from you. His eyes never leave you, his vision tunneling– 

When you turn to walk away, you turn toward him – and it's like your gaze is magnetized toward him, like you could sense something was amiss. And when your eyes lock onto his, the entire world grinds to a halt. 

You've aged somewhat; the laugh lines on your cheeks are just a little more prominent, but the crease in your brow is new, and your eyes are duller than he remembers. There’s a weariness to you – a sort of permanent exhaustion that he’s never seen on your face.

He doesn't even register that you're rushing toward him, too absorbed in savoring the sight of you after so many years apart. It's only when you're just a few feet away that he murmurs your name, so soft that he's certain the noise of the market has swallowed it, but your eyes widen like you heard him anyway. 

He doesn't realize that he's reaching for you until you grasp his hand in yours, cold metal against warm skin; his hands are no longer the shape they used to be – the shape that molded perfectly against your palm. Without a moment of hesitation, you begin to tug him through the crowd, guiding him into a tiny alleyway between two crowded buildings.

The moment you turn to look at him again, you drop your shopping bag to the ground without a second thought. With trembling hands, you reach up and cup his cheeks – cheeks that are too smooth, too cold; cheeks that lack the smatter of freckles he always had, lost and forgotten when his skin was replaced; cheeks that are missing the scars he gathered over the years, like the one he earned falling off a horse for the first time. 

You whisper that name – the name of a dead man, of the man he once was, of the man he can never be again – and he's never heard you sound so broken, so desperate; his heart aches like it's been crushed. 

“I'm… I'm not him anymore, sunshine,” he rasps, his throat so dry that it feels like his tongue is clogged with ash. “I can't be him anymore.”

“It's still you,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “Even if you're different, it's still you.”

His eyes burn so horribly that he wonders if he's actually going to cry, if the weight of his anguish will break the rules of his new body. 

Suddenly, you surge forward, wrapping your arms so tightly around him that, if he were still human, you would’ve crushed the air straight out of his lungs. “I thought… I thought you were dead,” you sob, clutching him even tighter, like you're trying to dent his body. “I thought you died during your surgery, or didn't recover, or– or–”

He presses his lips against your temple, his steel arms wrapping tenderly around your shoulders. When he breathes in, your smell hits him all at once; he never could smell you in the dream – only a strange void of scent, like something was removed from his brain before he could process it.  

Somehow, you smell familiar. Somehow, you smell like home.

“I’m here, sweetheart,” he murmurs, one hand slowly petting the back of your head. “I’m right here.”

He lets you cry into his hold just as you did for him, so many years ago, his chest aching like something inside him shattered to pieces; when your knees begin to fold out from under you, he carefully picks you up with one arm beneath your thighs, bearing your weight with inhuman ease. You take the opportunity to cling your legs around him, gripping him like your life depends on it – like his life depends on it.

He doesn't have a clue how long he holds you like that, rubbing circles into your back as you cry and cry and cry. You calm slowly, your breath hitching and your nose sniffling while you recover. Finally, you ask him to take you home; he carries you in one arm and your groceries in the other, following your guidance down the streets as you cling to him like he's going to disappear from under your grip. When he reaches your apartment, your hands are shaking too hard to unlock the door, so he gently pries the keys from your shivering fingers and carries you inside. You direct him to your bedroom, your groceries abandoned in the entryway. 

He settles you into the sheets like you're made of glass, but neither of you want a single millimeter of distance; he cradles you in his arms and curls around you, murmuring quiet reassurances when you begin to shake and cry again. 

Finally, when your breathing is calm and even once more, he tentatively asks, “Did… Did you plant flowers in the dream? Under the oak tree?”

You blink up at him with red-rimmed eyes, a little astonished. “How did you… know that?”

“I ended up there, a few times,” he says quietly, thumbing away the remnants of tears from your cheeks. “Thought I was making the whole thing up.”

You stare at him like you can't believe he's real. “...It was for you,” you confess, so quietly that he probably wouldn’t have heard it if he were still human.

His chest aches with a grief that isn't his. He doesn't know what to say, doesn't know how to comfort you; he fears that part of him died like everything else. “I love you,” he rasps, stupid and earnest. 

A little smile graces your lips – a little quirk in the corner of your mouth; he feels his heart sing in response. “...Bigger than the moon.”

Your exhaustion catches up to you, sooner or later, and he lets himself rest shortly after you fall into an uneasy sleep, a tiny sliver of hope in his broken heart. 

He wakes up under the oak tree.

The dream is clearer than it has been since his rebirth – so sharp and vivid that he can taste the ash from the forest on his tongue. For a fraction of a second, he wonders if he'll be flesh and bone again, if his hands will mold perfectly to yours – but he looks down and finds them to be just as hard and cold as usual. 

You don't seem to mind. In fact, you barely seem to think about his new body at all. You still hold his hand the same, still kiss his cheek the same, still hug him the same. He can't bend for you, not anymore – but you bend around him without a breath of complaint. 

The two of you talk, eventually, about everything and nothing. You update him on the direction your life has taken, the things that have changed. He doesn’t miss the ways you talk around the worst parts, about the years you spent depressed, about the veil of darkness that overtook your life; you don’t miss how he does the exact same thing. Neither of you press about it. 

He stays with you for days, into the indeterminate future. He keeps every thought of his hunt out of sight, out of mind; he's been burning the candle on both ends for years, and now that he's in your arms, the exhaustion has sank its teeth into him. 

So he stays. He takes care of you, spoils you rotten, desperate to make up for all of the lost time. You’re absolutely inseparable. Everything goes on pause to integrate him into every second of your life; perhaps that’s not the healthiest course of action, but neither of you are willing to acknowledge it, let alone change it. You talk during the day and while you sleep, and when you aren’t talking, you’re savoring each other’s company in silence.

He relearns you, and you relearn him. He notes all of the ways you’ve changed, all the new scars, the ways your face has shifted with age, the ways your speech has changed. You note all of the subtleties of his new body, his new eyes, his sharpened teeth, the way his feet have themselves been turned into boots. He shows you the cannon built into his left arm, all of the dozens of little utilities and tools built into him, all of the scuffs and bumps and scrapes that he hasn’t repaired yet.

It takes time to settle into something resembling familiarity. There’s a caution between both of you, at first; it’s hard to pin down, but it’s like both of you are terrified that the other is going to disappear, like you can’t let your guard down in case it’s all ripped away.

But he stays, and so do you.

When you first ask him if he wants to make a memorial in the dream for the ones he lost, he thinks his brain functions completely halt. 

He never did get the chance to make graves for them – any of them. 

After a long, long silence, he swallows, his throat thick with grief, and manages to nod. 

After the grave markers are down, it takes him a great deal of time to decide what would be best – what they would like the most. You help him form a rocky hill in the plains, within viewing distance of the old oak, but far enough to be inconspicuous. You grow a small grove of trees to coat the whole area in dappled shade, granting him privacy to work on his own as you busy yourself; growing things in the dream has become a momentous task in the time you’ve been apart, and it’ll take some time to get everything right.

He tries not to think too hard about what to put down. His heart will know best, after all – not his head. 

A well-crafted wooden swing, just like the one Nick and Graey had on their porch; a small garden plot, dense with lettuce and artichoke and tomatoes; an eagle’s nest, at the peak of the tallest tree you made; a herd of roaming horses, their spotted coats gleaming in the sunlight; a thin creek with tiny waterfalls and even tinier fish; a thousand other tiny details, one for each of his siblings and friends.

When he makes the clementine tree, he stares at it for several long, aching minutes. He's silent and still for so long that you come to check on him, a furrow in your brow. (He doesn't like that he's becoming familiar with such an expression on your face. Contentment fits you so much better.)

He speaks before you can ask. “I'm alright,” he lies, his voice thick with grief. “I just…”

You approach him slowly, a bit like the way he would with a spooked horse. When you gently reach up to cup his cheeks, it’s only when you smear wetness across his face that he realizes that…

He’s… crying. 

He barks out a laugh, bitter and disbelieving.

Of course. Of course he can.

When he manages to compose himself, he turns back to the memorials with blurry eyes. 

There's only one thing missing, now. 

He could just make it out of thin air, he knows – but that feels… cheap, too simple, too… cold. 

It takes hours of effort, as it did the first time, but you sit by him all the while, trying to coax flowers to bloom from the dry, barren earth. The scrape of his knife and the tap of his chisel and the rasp of sandpaper fill the too-silent air. When he finishes his work, his hands ache with phantom pain and his fingers have a few new scrapes – but it's all worth it. 

He wills the limbs of the clementine tree to bend into a cradle, sheltered by soft leaves and plump fruit. With a trembling grip, he settles the tiny guitar into the gentle hold of the branches, watching them curl protectively around it, ensuring that it will never fall.  

It looks comfortable there, somehow. He can almost picture her in his arms, trying to scramble up the tree with her pudgy little fists, reaching for the strings with clumsy fingers.  

She never got to taste the fruit she was named after. 

When he bursts into tears again, you stand by his side in an instant, holding him silently in your arms. When he sinks to his knees, brought down by the weight of his anguish, you cradle him against your chest, slowly stroking his hair. 

For years, he thought he’d run through this seemingly endless wellspring of grief, that he’d truly hollowed himself out, that he’d manage to excise everything that wasn’t fuel for the raging fire.

For a long while, he stares at the scene he's created – at the swing rocking in the wind, at the eagles flying overhead, at the horses prancing in the field, at the babbling creek, at the tiny blooms on the clementine tree.

He decides there's something else he'd like to add. 

Slowly, tentatively, he shifts to look at you. You must see some hesitation in his gaze, because without missing a beat, you cup his cheeks and ask, “Is there anything I can do for you, sweetheart? Ask and it's yours.”

He swallows, working his jaw. “...Y'know that tradition ya taught me about, when we were young? About the plants?"

Your eyes widen into saucers. “You want to…”

“I want you to… help me,” he chokes, fresh tears welling in his eyes. “To… To help me figure out what to plant for who, and to help me keep everything alive.”

You stare at him with a quiet sort of awe, an immense but tender kind of love that feels like the warm swaddle of a blanket. Then, finally, you nod. “Of course,” you croak. “Of course I’ll help you.”

He tells you about all of them – all of the friends he made and lost, all of the siblings he grew up with. One by one, you work through them all, telling him the meanings of the plants you choose for each person. 

He tells you about Simon – a smug little bastard he grew up with, who kept his arrogance until the day he died. He'd challenge him to bizarre, impromptu contests at every opportunity, racing him back to the house for dinner and proposing that he'd never be able to catch as many fireflies as him. “Loyal to a fault and dumb as a bag a’ rocks,” Boothill huffs, staring at the jar of softly glowing fireflies he'd set beneath a tree. “Sorry bastard couldn't lasso to save his life.”

You laugh quietly. “Mm… Something to represent loyalty, for sure. Maybe… perseverance? Ambition?”

He hums in agreement. Ambition. Simon really was ambitious, wasn’t he?

Before long, his grave is blooming with tall spikes of red and violet gladiolus, intermingled with white hollyhock, framed by the fuzzy petals of edelweiss.  

He tells you about Jess – the snarkiest woman he ever met, and clever to boot. They met early into his bounty hunting days; she approached him in a bar and flirted with him so relentlessly that he almost didn't notice her trying to filch his wallet. Turns out that she'd mistaken him for a target she was hunting, and had a habit of robbing her bounties blind before turning them in and doubling her money – and sometimes she'd even make a bet with them before a game of pool, just to add insult to injury. “Sharp as a nail and wily as a fox, that one,” he laughs, eyeing the pool cue he'd set up against the rocks by the creek. 

You nod in contemplation. “Intellect, ingenuity…”

His lip quirks a little, fond and wistful. “Anything to represent a wicked lil’ liar like her?”

You laugh. “I’m sure I can think of something.”

For her grave, you grow brilliant scarlet hyacinths, pencilled cranesbill geranium, and dark red snapdragons.

On and on and on you work, going through every gravestone, the air rich with memories. He laughs when he tells you about Micah – the funniest man he’s ever known, and too damn whimsical for his own good; the first time he took a bullet was after he'd literally shot himself in the foot while mucking around with his gun. He tells you about a man he only ever knew as Bark – a mute gunslinger with wicked aim, who loved to chew on pine bark. He tells you about Beau, a sweet girl that loved her horse more than anything else in the world – but when it came to shooting, there was no one as bloodthirsty as her. 

For Nick and Graey, you plant asters – a symbol of love, you say, and of happiness in old age. For Nick, black-eyed susans, coltsfoot, and elderflower; for Graey, magnolias and purple irises. 

For Clementine… baby's breath and cinquefoil.

It takes three nights of work to finish everything. By the end of it all, you’ve both made a brilliant garden, rich with splendor and greenery in a dream that’s only just recovering, still brown and dead and barren. But the memorials stay healthy, with his maintenance and your own.

He doesn’t have the words to express his gratitude.

…But as he hugs you tightly to his chest in the dream, fresh tears spilling from his eyes and wetting your skin, he thinks you understand. 

He’ll need to leave again, eventually. He knows this. You know this. It’s an unspoken dread – one that neither of you are willing to acknowledge yet. (What if he stops dreaming when he leaves? What if he never comes back? What if you disappear while he’s gone? What if, what if, what if?)

He spends weeks with you, and in that time, the two of you manage to defrost. The light returns to your eyes, and the constant tension in his jaw fades away; you stop clinging to him like a bear trap, letting your body rest; his endless paranoia about you being found by the IPC melts away into something gentler, something more reasonable; your wounds begin to heal, and the wicked sting of grief and loneliness fades to an ache.  

The night you first make love is hardly different from any other; perhaps the tender affection in your eyes makes you look just a bit more exceptional; perhaps you smile at him in a way that makes him a little too hungry; perhaps it’s for no reason in particular.

And it really is making love, not simple sex. It takes hours – not because of his limitless stamina, but because both of you refuse to do anything but savor each other. He maps your body in full for the first time, pressing tender kisses to every inch of your skin, making note of the marks he's never gotten the chance to see and keeping track of which spots make you squirm the hardest. You explore his new body with a touch so tender that it makes his heart ache, following every ridge and divot in his plating, tracing the seams, learning all of the markings and vents and ports with a reverence that leaves him dizzy. 

The pace is slow and sweet as honey; you worship each other for hours in a melting pot of pleasure and satisfaction, and when he finally enters you, it feels like a missing piece of his soul has clicked into place. He kisses you so gently that your eyes well up with tears, and he presses them away with his lips as he rocks slowly into you. You cling to each other desperately, longingly, passionately, your hands hot on his metal and his fingers strong on your hips. 

He makes you come with your name on his tongue. You beg for him so, so sweetly – but you never needed to beg. He would tear the stars from the sky if you asked; he would gift you the universe if you wanted it. When the exhaustion catches up to you both, you fall into the dream together, still unable to keep your hands off each other. He was right – the sensation really is different in the dream. 

It’s still wonderful, because it’s you.

He’s surprised that you’re the one to bring up his departure first. You seem… more relaxed about the idea than he expected, too. He himself has been agonizing over it for weeks, the thought nagging in the back of his mind in the limbo between the waking world and the dream. But you bring it up with a sort of resignation in your face, a quiet, sad kind of acceptance that makes him want to hold you and never, ever let go.

(You don’t beg him to stay. You know that he’d cave in an instant, but you also know that he’d be restless for the rest of his life. You know he loves you, but you also know that he’s etched the memories of hatred and grief so deeply into his soul that he could never be happy without resolution.)

You love him more than life itself.

…So you let him go, no matter how reluctant both of you are. 

He kisses you with every ounce of passion and love and care in his shell of a body, and he looks you in the eye, and he tells you, “I’ll come back.”

You nod, and though there are tears in your eyes, you are lacking that dim, bitter grief that you once held in a moment just like this, all those years ago. “I know.”

He leans toward you, pressing his forehead to yours. “I’ll come back. I promise,” he breathes, his voice tense with tears that he can only shed in dreams. “I swear it. I’ll come back. I’ll visit.”

You smile, a fragile little thing. “I know.” You press a kiss to his lips, your tears spilling over. “I know you will.” You cradle his face in your hands, and he feels like his chest caves in at what he sees on your face. 

Your eyes are gleaming with love, with trust, with affection. The sun has returned to your gaze.

“I love you,” you murmur, quiet and earnest.

His lips twitch, his eyes burning. “...Bigger than the moon.”

And so he leaves, the salt of your tears stinging bitterly on his tongue.

But he dreams.

It seems like the proximity changed something in him – reignited a piece of himself that died when he did – because when he next sleeps, thousands of light years away from you, he finds himself under that oak tree.

Words can’t express his relief when he sees you sitting beneath its barren canopy, staring at the plants you’d tended to for years in his name. Their growth is wild, untamable – but they’re alive.

You’re both alive, and that’s all that matters.

The dream gradually recovers as both of you do. The dark clouds begin to fade in the twilight of the rising sun; fresh sprigs of grass sprout in the fields; pine trees begin to poke out from the ash; the bitter wind begins to warm. But, perhaps most importantly of all–

There are tiny, fresh buds growing on the jagged branches of the oak tree. 

Winter has begun to reach its end, and spring is blossoming beneath the ash. 

He'll learn how to love again, how to dream again, even if it isn't the same; even if you've both changed. Because if there's one thing he's always known…

…it's that his love for you is brighter than the sun, and bigger than the moon.

[dietmtdewbabynewyorkcity]

HOW I’VE BEEN SUCESSFULLY LOSING WEIGHT: Notes from a former binge eater ♥️

*this guide is to show how ~I~ do things and offer advice on how to do it MY way. I am in no way encouraging anyone to do themselves harm. First off,

HEALTH IS WEALTH.

That being said.. this is literally the longest I’ve ever gone without bingeing. It’s just,,, easy this time. Once you get a feel of what it’s like to be skinny you just don’t crave junk as much anymore bc you KNOW it’s not worth it. The trick is to eat clean 90% of the time and allow your favorite treats 10% do the time. Fit them into your calorie limit!!! Here’s some personal favorites that have helped me lose like 20lbs in the past 2 months.

I tend to do one higher- calorie drink during the day (protein shake, Starbucks, etc) and one healthy filling but low cal meal and a sweet snack at the end of the night.

LOW CALORIE 90%

Mediterranean salad (~150): mixed greens, chopped bell peppers, cherry tomatoes, red onion. Little bit of feta cheese. Balsamic vinegar (not dressing or vinegarette!!!!) I don’t add meat but you could totally add chicken for low cal high protein choice. You could also add olives but I don’t fw them.

Chocolate Protein shakes from the gas station (loll). They’re 220 cal on average and a great treat. Strawberry one is good too.

SEAWEED SNACKS they’re literally 30-60 calories for a pack and kill my urge to eat chips!!! Please give them a try!

Soups. Soups that are already portioned and have the calorie amount posted. I add extra seasonings and spice to boost metabolism.

Coffee!! With almond milk and a little coffee creamer. It’s worth the calories if you want a coffee just make one it’s better than going to Starbucks.

Sushi: I’m vegetarian so I get an avocado and cucumber roll. It’s so good with fresh ginger and a little soy sauce. Sometimes I will be craving it allllllll day and have it as my OMAD so rewarding 🥹

Miso soup>>>>>> add tofu and seaweed and onions!! And mushrooms if you like them.

Monster Ultra energy drinks,,,, yeah I know they’re bad for you but I love them.

Fruits!!! I especially love strawberries, watermelon, cherries, blackberries, pineapple and mangoes.

TREATS 10%

Trail mix: dried cherries, pecans, walnuts, pistachios, cashews. High in calories but perfect for killing hunger. High protein keeps you full and muscles strong, high healthy fats will keep your hair and skin and nails beautiful.

Chocolates: SMALL PORTIONS. if you can’t eat just eat a piece without bingeing, do NOT buy a big bag. what I do is I buy a bar of whatever chocolate I’m craving for my bf and we share it piece by piece. Dark chocolate, milk chocolate, white, hazelnut, with coffee beans, with toffee, fruits, chocolate is the best thing ever 🍫

Starbucks! My fav drinks are matcha lattes (hot/iced), iced white chocolate mocha, caramel macchiato, and occasionally a pumpkin spice latte. Peppermint mochas on the holidays. Oat milk always

Baked goods. Same deal as the chocolate, ONLY BUY THE PORTION YOURE GOING TO EAT. If you have been craving a croissant, go get one. One. Don’t buy a whole dozen of them. You will end up bingeing trust me. My favs are cinnamon rolls <3

Habits

I’m going to the gym!!! Consistently for the first time in my life. It doesn’t have to be anything crazy. Spend 30 min on the treadmill alternating between incline walking and easy paced jogging. Put on a YouTube video. Wear pink and bring a cute water bottle. You have to make an experience out of it! I stick to cardio and full body stretches plus ocasional (light) strength workouts w my bf.

I don’t drink anymore. Just 🍃. Alc is so high in sugar and carbs and it’s literally poison bro. I know it’s hard to stop but once you do you’ll feel so much better.

I rarely weigh myself. I’m at my bfs house all the time so I only step on my scale maybe 3 times a month. It’s been a game changer!!!

MINDSET

I practice mindfulness and speak kindly to myself. Basically sweetspo + affirmations to myself all the time.

Taking more pride in your appearance will also help motivate you. You think you’ll still want to binge after you took a full body shower, clean PJ’s or outfit, painted your nails, skincare and makeup done, whitened your teeth and lit a candle? No thanks.

Limit stupid, negative, useless media consumption. Watch things that have to do with your hobbies/ interests and your social media algorithms begin to kinda clean themselves up over time. My pages are all about exercise, study blogs, beauty tips and sciencey stuff. No more drama or celebrity nonsense. Cut down your following!!

Remember you only have one life on earth. You’re young and hot once. Don’t you want to grab this chance while you have it? Unfortunately your beauty is your currency especially as a woman, so if there’s anything I can do to give myself a better life I will. Losing just a few pounds of fat will make the craziest difference in ways you’d never expect. Free and discounted stuff. More people smile at you and listen to what you have to say. Both literal and figurative doors will be opened for you.Clothes fit better bc they’re more flattering when your body is fit and healthy. While it feels good to get validation from other people, the best part of it is looking in the mirror and feeling proud instead of ashamed. The inner confidence that comes from successful transformation………….there’s no other feeling that compares. If you know, you know. I’m just saying,, the choice is yours 🤷🏼‍♀️

[verinarin]

Winner takes all ! and he wins you

the awaited part 3 is here, thank you all for the support means a lot seeing you guys like and reblog this series ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

i’m pretty attached to this series so tell me if you guys want little blurbs or an epilogue about Veritas and his prize (you ♡)

Part 1 - Part 2

support me on ko-fi╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

There’s something so exciting about the fact that anything and everything could go wrong but somehow the endless possibilities leave you wanting, that burst of adrenaline you love so much is here right before your eyes

The red velvet table accessorised by casino chips of different colours, the pleasing sound of cards being shuffled, oh nothing could get you out of this sense of joy, except there is this certain Doctor who stood behind you, leaning close beside your ear

“Can’t you just sit on the couch behind me ?, you’re distracting me here,” you mutter as you feel his warm breath fanning your already hot neck

You swear you could feel his lips turned into a smirk as he answers you, “The game has not started yet, so I still have some time to guide you,” his stern voice now turns calm and soothing, perhaps to ease your mind a little

But how could you be more at ease when you’re both so close to each other !, one of his hands rests on the table while the other holds your chair. How will you focus on the game when the sight in front of you is his toned forearm decorated beautifully with veins, not to mention his hand beautifully sculpted adorned with his signature doctoral ring

Oh no !, you actually might lose if he spends any more time behind you. You suddenly snap back into reality when the casino owner, Mr. Cliff seat on the chair before you, accompanied by that eerie smile

“Well then have you drafted the contract ?,” he asks as he folds his arm and rests his weight back towards a chair that’s befitting for a king

Ratio summons the hologram contract and slides it across the table, “Feel free to read through the 57 pages of the contract to revise our agreement before signing it,” he states in a cold manner

Okay, now you feel sceptical over this contract, because usually you only need at least one page or perhaps five pages maximum. First what the hell did he put on those pages, second how the hell he could write that contract in approximately 30 minutes ?!?

“You put some bullshit terms in that contract didn’t you ?,” you whisper to Ratio while watching Mr. Cliff thoroughly skim through the pages he provided him with

“If you know the truth it’ll make you an accomplice so I can’t disclose anything for now,” he teases, ruffling your hair before walking towards Mr. Cliff to assist him in ��understanding’ the contents of the contract

You groan as you try to brush through your now messy hair, you finish grooming yourself at the same time Mr. Cliff signs the contract, “Sign your name sweetheart,” he loudly chuckles as he slides back the hologram

“Don’t mind if I do,” you cheekily reply as you swiftly sign your name, once your name is on the contract the hologram automatically dissipates into thin air, which means that it’s already been approved and signed by the higher-ups

Ratio walks back towards your side of the table with a huge grin, oh he clearly puts insurance for you in that contract, well you appreciate his thoughtfulness but you won’t need it !

“Well then shall we begin sir ?,” you roll your sleeves as you await Mr Cliff’s response, with Ratio standing by your side you feel more motivated than before, It’s time to impress that stern partner of yours

“Do you always need your dog on a leash beside you ?” Mr Cliff scoffs as he eyes Ratio up and down, the fact that he calls your supervisor your dog on a leash turns you red and you slowly turn your head up to see ‘your dog’s’ face

Oh Aeons above please don’t let Ratio kills this man-

Ratio’s eyes squint as his lips twitch in disgust, before he can open his mouth and blow this whole deal out the window you quickly stand up from your seat to calm him down “Ratio, just sit back at the couch okay ?,” you practically beg, your voice laced with honey and desperation

Ratio merely scoffs before turning around and seat on the couch behind you, even though he’s quite annoyed at Mr Cliff, he knows that that foul man is insecure about himself, it’s evident that he’s actually jealous of Ratio and that comes naturally to a person with both unparalleled beauty and intelligence

You’re quick to focus back on the game at hand, you’re playing poker naturally and of course, you’re confident in your ability to win, you’re not only lucky but also cunning that’s the fruit of losing countless bets with Aventurine, you have a 95% chance of winning while playing with others but with Aventurine….

You still don’t know how the hell he gets that good, but the apprentice would never try to dethrone their master of course, in which case you just study the little things Aventurine does and explicitly teach you

As you get lost in nostalgia the dealer starts to shuffle the deck, it seems that he used a new card which makes it all the more interesting, it’s easier for you to predict your card and your opponents' card, well it is true you have a stroke of benevolent luck but luck doesn’t always cut it, so you turn into your memory and your card counting skills, you could get ban from casinos if they knew you can count cards

Well Mr Cliff seems to look down upon you, it’s in his right to do so since he’s one of the top players on Penacony, well you on the other hand are an informal apprentice of one of the best gamblers in the entire galaxy, you’re confident that Mr Cliff would quiver in fear if you spoke Aventurine’s name

“You seem awfully confident little lady,” Mr Cliff snickers as the dealer hands your cards, well you were confident before but now you’re well past that, Ace of Hearts and King of Hearts, your luck never ceases to surprise, Ratio took notice in your behaviour

You lean back towards your chair, your legs crossed. At that point he knew that you were confident with your hand, “Well let’s just say I’m having a good day today,” you smile

Mr Cliff also smiles, he starts off the game by betting his chips quite high, if you’re not mistaken this could indicate that he also has a good hand but you’re confident that is not as good as yours, so you raise the bet, not wanting to lose in the game of wits

“Well you’re raising quite fast sweetheart, you sure you wanna do that ?,” he chuckles, this man has great confidence in his cards huh ?, you know very well he’s trying to get under your skin, but to be frank only Aventurine manage to do so by his sarcastic comments

“What ?, you scared of me ~” you laugh, which seems to rile him up judging by how he loosens his tie. You swear you could hear Ratio curse behind you, he should loosen up a little since you’re practically going to win this

He scoffs as he asks the dealer to quickly reveal the three cards in the middle of the table, as the cards reveal itself, your face turns sour, well your lips do pout while the inside of your mind you rejoice, but you can’t show what to Mr Cliff. “What’s wrong little girl?” Mr Cliff asks his voice laced with faux empathy

“Nothing’s wrong,” you reply shortly, this you stage your set and you’re confident that Mr Cliff would have a straight flush on his hands, but what you don’t know is Ratio is clenching his fist tight behind you, he seems to believe your act

The game continues until it is time to place your final bet, Mr Cliff goes all in to end it all and of course now is the time for you to change your pitiful act, with a huge grin you push all of your chips to the middle of the table, “All in !” Mr Cliff is shocked by your sudden confidence, it’s like your whole being changed from hunching your back towards now looking down on him, your eyes glint mischievously

“Hah! prideful brat,” he scoffs angrily as he throws his card to the table to reveal a straight flush, he stands up from the table and cups your cheeks, “You’re mine now,”

Before you can reveal your hand Ratio stands and reaches for Mr Cliff’s hand pulling it swiftly to his back and pushing him down to the table, you’re shocked with the sudden move but take this to your advantage

You lean down to whisper to Mr Cliff’s ears, “I’m afraid your casino is mine,” you throw your card at his face, revealing a royal flush

Mr Cliff lost you and his casino and of course, you win his casino and unbeknownst to you, you also win Ratio’s heart. “W-what !, you’re fucking cheating that’s why this bastard is ughh!,” Before continuing his words ratio pushes Mr Cliff’s head to the table, “Please refrain from uttering foolish accusations or else-” Okay Ratio might have a knack for belittling others verbally but he never actually smack someone’s head ?!?

Somehow the sight of his hair draping down, covering the menacing glow in his eyes with his teeth gritted and his arms fully in display showcasing the strength he rarely used, that sight yes you need to take a picture-

You quickly grab your phone to snap a picture, “What the fuck?!?,” Mr Cliffs yells which is replied to by Ratio twisting his hand, is it bad that you find the sight hot ?, “I know I look completely out of character but really ? Taking a picture of me, it seems that you want to immortalised the look on my face when I’m jealous,” he sighs as he summons the contract with his free hand

“Ahahaha, now I believe we have a business to sort out,” you try to deflect the conversation by quickly taking the holo-contract and signing your name again, but Mr Cliff still doesn’t want to sign forcing Ratio to drag his fingers and press it on the screen to print out his thumbprints, “It was nice having business with you,” you smile as you pat Mr Cliff’s head that’s currently forced down towards the table because of Ratio

Without much thought you quickly step outside of the private room to call cooperate about the success leaving Ratio alone with Mr Cliff, Ratio leans down pressing his hand on Mr Cliff’s back before whispering, “If I see your pathetic self dare to even gaze upon her I will do just more than restraining you if you plan to harm her just know that I could easily break this feeble neck of yours or perhaps I should do so to prevent you from having the mere thought-“

“NO NO NO! I SWEAR ON MY LIFE THAT I WILL NOT HARM OR EVEN LOOK AT HER,” Mr Cliff yells as he struggles to set himself free, Ratio simply nods before smashing his head on the table, effectively knocking him out

“Hmm how’s Mr Cliff ?” you ask Ratio as he closes the door and walks towards you, “He’s still dealing with his loss but don’t worry he’s fine,” he curtly replies, he looks at your face reading your overjoyed expression

“No scolding today ?,” you lightly chuckle noticing that he’s uncannily silent, he just scoffs as he ruffles your hair it seems that he’s thoroughly impressed, “No scolding just admiration, perhaps I should reward you hmm ?,” he smiles as he yet again caged you with his arms as you rest your back on the wall

“W-what kind of reward ?,” you whisper, your breath tickles his neck as he leans closer towards your ear grazing the skin with his lips as he travels further down towards the neck, “Would a kiss be sufficient ?, for now at least,” he whispers against your neck, the sensation sends tingles through your body

“T-that would be appreciated,” you reply, resting your hand on his broad chest, he merely smiles before looking back towards your face, cupping your cheek before leaning in for a gentle kiss

“How delectable,”

[platinumrosetail]

Hi! I have one more Genshin Impact request! This one is once again crossing over with Pokemon, but this time it's with SAGAU.

It begins like other SAGAU fics. Reader lands in Teyvat and immediately gets called an imposter, but the moment they're attacked... she summons her level 100 Garchomp from pokemon platinum.

Basically she's able to summon pokemon to help her get away from everyone out to get her.

But the main part of this request is well Fontaine. I'm basing it off an old SAGAU post where the higher bond you had with the characters you have, the more they know you're not the imposter. I don't where this post is, but yeah.

So basically Reader mainly uses Fontaine characters, even spends a lot of time in Fontaine during her playthrough. So playable Fontaine characters and Fontaine as a whole, NPCs and the like, all know she's the creator and welcome her.

Cue the biggest open secret ever to be seen in Teyvat. While all the other nations are trying to find the 'imposter', Fontaine is just vibing. "What imposter? Never seen them."

Oh and I would prefer it to be Neuvillette x Reader please.

Ok 👍! Love the idea and yea I remember that post! 😁 also there are some adding things like wriosthley and such that happened between me and them.

Warning: noob author, female reader, imposter au, yandere characters, and others.

Characters: neuvillette, and wriosthley.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

you weren't expecting to get isekai'd into genshin especially with it being in the imposter au you read for it which usually have a false creator on the throne or no one on it yet which would be the case as you never heard the characters chasing you mention anyone on the throne.

thankfully before you were chased you did a little experiment by making a cut that was deep enough to draw blood but not life threatening to see if this was a sagau au or not, which by the gold blood you suddenly had means that yes you're in a sagau au, just need to find out which one.

that was easy as the first step you took in one of the nations they started chasing you and not in the 'your grace, we love you!' but instead in the 'want to kill you, imposter!' way so it was easy to see that you were in the imposter au.

you decided to try something that you never seen being used in the sagau imposter au fanfics you read before. that something would be summon a pokemon; a garchomp to be specific, a garchomp you had in pokemon platinum that was at level 100 when you finished the game, you'd think what with summoning garchomp would prove that you were their creator but nope that failed as they blame you for stealing the creator's; you, power.

you summoned your hoopa to teleport you to a different land besides the ones that attacked you which were; mondstadt, liyue, inazuma, and natlan. sumeru and fontaine were the only ones to have not chase you so you decided to go to one of them, you chose fontaine as they had your favorite characters in that nation you just cross you fingers that they aren't like the other nations as you would like to relax and hang with your favorite characters in your favorite nation.

upon making it to fontaine you decided to stay out of sight in the areas that would either have no one but mobs or on occasion treasure hunters ot fatui; you of course avoided both treasure hunters as they would go for your most likely bounty and the fatui as they're out right dangerous even if you had pokemon with you. so you mostly stuck to yourself with your pokemon and sometimes the mobs when they come by.

what you didn't know was while you were having fun with some water type pokemon like primirina, milotic, finizen, and palafin zero you were spotted and being watched by some melusines who were a daughter to one of your husbandos neuvillette. the melusines that saw you immediately reported you to their father but not out of malicious intent.

no, the melusines reported you to their father so that you wouldn't get hurt anymore from other nations as they heard what was happening and they could tell that you were the real creator that was being chased after wrongfully.

so now you're met with neuvillette the next time you go to the beach with some other water types; so as to give all of them your love. you were about to take a sprint and just run to the desert parts of sumeru if you needed to flee from fontaine when neuvillette stops you and told you that he won't hurt you.

you were almost skeptical but remembered that he wouldn't trick you as that wouldn't be like him even if you weren't the creator and was actually the imposter. so you followed him to fontaine.

you were heavily surprised that fontaine knew you were the creator but you guessed that since in some sagau fanfics there are a narion or two that knows your the real deal and not the imposter the rest of the nations believes. as a gift you decided to have some kalos pokemon help out and such, like furfrou, slurpuff, gogoat, and much more.

while sleeping you somehow created a baby lugia like the one from the anime of pokemon. you weren't expecting it so you were quite shocked when you found the little guy when you woke up. furina had dubbed it yours and neuvillette's child which made both you and him blush. oh, yeah, you and neuvillette are in a relationship and not too long after meeting wriothesley he also joined your's and neuvillette's relationship.

you had also given a few people some pokemon coordinated to them, like with furina you had given her a popplio and milcery. with neuvillette you given him a oshawott; who was named neuvillette the second by furina, a shiny vaporeon; that was mates to your sylveon as well to another, and for wriothesley, a sinistea, glaceon; who was also your sylveon and neuvillette's vaporeon's mate, and a sandshrew.

you were shocked to come to find out that the fatui believse you're the creator as well like fontaine, you found out bcause of both childe and arlecchino both told you when they had made a meeting that couldn't be denied. you also found out that nahida and the wanderer also knows you're the creator by a letter sent from her to you.

(going to leave up to yall on if the rest of sumeru believes you're the creator as well or not.)

you and furina had some fun doing contest once you introduced them to her, sometimes collaborating with her, you also taught them about gym and regular pokemon battles but the contests were more popular which was understandable.

thankfully the traveler was in on you being the creator and helped protect you sometimes, in return you tried giving them advice on where they could possibly find their sibling as they haven't made it to natlan yet, so when the other nations asked the traveler if they had seen the 'imposter' they and paimon lied and said no.

you heard from furina on how some traveling merchants were taking a trip here but encountered a gyarodos; which they didn't know that, that jumped over the boat before going to it's trainer which was a child, that had mystified the traveling merchant. you and her laughed very much at that story as that was very hilarious to hear.

you decided to give nhida and wanderer a little gift for being nice and not thinking you were the imposter, so you got nahida a shayman and wanderer a mimikyu.

sometimes one of the archons that still believes you're the 'imposter' would come by to ask if anyone in fontaine had seen the 'imposter' so neuvillette and wriothesley hides you down in the fortress of miropede until said archon leaves. thankfully for when a archon tries to use their powers like venti for example, nature hides you by not giving venti the answer he needs from the wind as whenever he comes the wind would stop until he leaves.

(a/n: and done! hope y'all enjoyed!! i quite like how this turned out, i always enjoy a pokemon!reader crossover so i was very happy when i received this request, just wished there were more of them; probably not with genshin at the moment a i'm getting a little burnt out as i just now made 3 genshin requested post, now if it's another fandom x genshin!reader then i think i could do that. anyway, hope yall liked it and have a wonderfull day/evening/night!!!)

[soraphic]

this is rlly self indulgent lol

Peter was a fixer,a perfectionist in some ways. he had to have solved one problem before moving onto the next,working methodically and productively through most obstacles. he was often restless after meeting you,just your being presented so many new problems he had no idea of how to fix. one being,you were a huge distraction.

"Peter!" you whined,rolling over to lay flat on your back against the bottom bunk of his rickety bed,the plaid covers jostling under your weight.

he looked up momentarily over the rim of his glasses,pencil poised as he was in the middle of writing out a particularly tricky formula for you to go off of. he was sprawled out similarly to you,horizontal to the wall with his legs dangling off the edge,propped up under his left arm,his other scribbling down numbers and letters that were bordering on painful to look at.

he flicked a curl from his eye,long over due a monthly-may-hair-cut. "yeah,baby?"

your heart tugged at his lack of frustration,albeit seeing it all upside down. he had been trying to explain this to you for hours,going over the same material until you felt like you wanted to scream. you could only imagine how he felt. yet,he never got angry or upset with you,instead wording it in an alternate way to try and help you grasp the concept. you felt like a burden.

you chewed on your lip before answering,"i'm not sure i can take any more math for today."

he snorted,dropping his pencil and letting it roll across the page,coming to a stop against your shoulder. "you wanna do something else?"

you were up in seconds,flipping yourself over and up onto your thighs,nodding - "god,yes! anything,please!"

Peter was laughing the whole time,the kind of high-pitched,boyish giggle he only ever let fly around you.

"what did you have in mind?"

he had since retrieved his pencil,swirling it between his finger tips. he gave you a once over,eyes darting to the door of his small room before licking his lips and focusing in on you once more.

"well,we are home alone.." he left it open-ended,leaving you room to shut him down.

your eyes flicked to the tightly shut door trying to envision the empty apartment outside before returning to him. "it would be a shame not to take advantage of it.."

you were slowly crawling toward him,closing the gap between the two of you until your palms were pressed to his broad chest.

"plus,we never get to spend time alone like this.." he agreed,slowly sliding the various textbooks and papers that were being crumpled under your knee to the floor.

you nodded,sliding your legs under yourself until your knees touched his waist,bringing yourself that much closer. "especially not without your cheesy star wars jokes killing the mood."

he frowned,pulling back. "wait,they don't turn you on?

you groaned,grasping him tightly by the collar of his flannel and pulling him toward you,connecting your lips to his. he was quick to give in,moving his mouth against yours as he fought to sit up higher,extending his elbow in an attempt to level with you.

you were fumbling with the buttons of his shirt,revealing the pure white tee underneath before Peter was wrestling you onto his lap,pinning you to him with an arm wrapped tightly around your middle.

"god,you're good at that." you breathed,finally pushing his blue flannel down his arms.

"-just wait until you see what i can do with my lightsaber." he used the irritated noise you let out as an opportunity to slip his tongue past your lips,silencing you and having you soon forgetting his god awful one liner.

you were rocking against him,clawing at the tufts of curls at the nape of his neck as he groaned into your open mouth.

he made quick work of stripping you,beating you by miles and a cocky smirk pulling at his lips when you guffawed at his speed and your discarded clothing draped along his nightstand.

you ground your hips down further,circling him before sliding back up to meet his waistband. the smirk quickly dropped from his face,his eyes screwing shut and lips forming a small 'o' as he fought not to throw his head back. "sucks to lose,Parker."

he shot you a lazy grin,lips parted and small pants leaving him at the way you swivelled your hips against him.

his shirt was the next thing to go,routinely followed by his pants leaving the both of you in your underwear and Peter fumbling for a condom in his bedside drawer.

you rolled your hips again impatiently,bracing a hand against his tummy when he bucked upwards and left you breathless.

the moment you saw the light bounce off the blue packet you were smothering him once more,holding his face to yours so tightly if it wasn't Peter you'd be scared of breaking him.

you shuffled backwards,pulling him from his boxers and running the tips of your fingers loosely around him a few times. "you don't want me to eat you out or something first?" he leaned back to look at you,weight balanced on one palm behind him while his other kneaded the fat of your hip.

you quickly shook your head,insisting you were ready and that 'Peter kisses were enough foreplay as is.' he obliged with little to no convincing,just as desperate to be inside you as you were.

+

"fuckfuckfuck-!" you were practically wailing on top of him,one hand grasping at the metal bars of his top bunk to steady yourself while you rocked against him,pulling up and dropping down continuously with the bar as leverage.

he had kept his previous position of leaning back on his palm,his other hand rubbing at your ribs while he sucked and kissed at your perked nipple.

he suddenly jerked to a halt,one hand slapping over your mouth to muffle your noises with wide eyes.

you kept your chin tipped to the ceiling,eyes screwed tightly shut and letting your gasps and moans hit his fingers. you had assumed he was trying to assert some kind of kinky dominance by muffling your loud sounds,too far gone to realise how un-peter that was.

he was shushing you,rather aggressively,which pissed you off. you turned your head down,just about ready to turn it into a blow out before you heard a woman call from the hallway - "Peter!"

your eyes practically bulged out of your skull,as did Peter's,the two of you scrambling to get up.

you winced at how quickly you pulled off of him,a dull throb hitting between your thighs as you dived under the covers,blindly searching for any item of clothing you could shove back on.

Peter was hopping into one leg of his boxers,his voice squeaky as he yelled "uhh,coming!"

you heard the ruffle of grocery bags before May sighed,the familiar weight of her footsteps against the old floorboards getting closer until they were right outside the door.

Peter was pulling the door ajar before May even had a chance to put her hand around the knob,shoving his face into the small gap and using his broad figure to shield yours. "you need help putting the groceries away?"

she paused for a moment,eyeing him almost suspiciously and taking note of his disheveled hair. "peter,you're sweating. is everything okay?"

his cheeks burned and he coughed on his words,"yeah,(y/n)'s just sick so i was keeping the room super hot for her."

you gave a pathetic cough behind him to really seal the deal.

"oh sweetheart,are you okay?" May made an attempt to push past him but he was quick to shove her further into the hallway.

"no! you- you can't see her!"

her eyebrows furrowed.

"she's gross! like super,super gross! it's uhh.. period problems. she wouldn't want anyone other than me to see."

May scrunched her face before heartily laughing at her nephews awkwardness,though she relented. if you didn't want to see her,she wouldn't force it upon you.

you heard their floating conversation as Peter descended into the kitchen with her, 'Peter,you know even your aunt gets her period right?'

'eww gross!'

[southtopaz]

PSYCHO KILLER - SCREAM

Summary: in which Iris Morris has to navigate her personal relationships while surviving a psycho.

Warnings: Fem!reader, angst, mention of blood, violence, swearing, mention of death, Tara Carpenter x Fem reader, multiple parts.

Word count: +6k

A/n: this part will follow the events of Scream 6 but it will take place two years later from Scream 5. English is not my first language, so I apologize for any grammatical mistake.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4,Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16

That night, the air in Sam, Tara, and Iris's apartment was thick with tension as they settled in together. They had all agreed to stay in their apartment and spend the night together under the guise of safety in numbers, but Iris couldn't shake the feeling that it was also a way to keep tabs on one another. Trust felt fragile, and she found herself scanning the room for suspects.

In the kitchen, the atmosphere shifted to a quieter, more intimate space. Iris and Tara stood side by side, chopping vegetables and stirring pots, their movements synchronized. The silence between them was comfortable yet charged.

"Wanna try this?" Iris asked playfully, dipping a spoon into the simmering sauce and holding it out towards Tara. Their eyes locked as Tara leaned in, accepting the offering. The moment lingered, until Tara finally looked away, her cheeks flushed.

"It's good," Tara said softly. Iris smiled, that small, genuine smile that made Tara's stomach flutter.

"I think you should get out of the city," Tara suggested, her brow furrowing in concern.

"Already tired of me?" Iris teased, but her heart sank at the thought.

"I would never get tired of you," Tara muttered. "It's just... after everything that happened last time, I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to go."

Iris paused, the weight of Tara's words settling in. "Look, Tara, do you want me gone?"

The question hung in the air like a challenge, and Tara's eyes widened. "Iris..."

"Do you want me to stay away from you?" Iris stepped closer, invading the space between them.

"No, of course not! But I just want you safe," Tara replied, her voice trembling slightly.

"Well, I want you safe too and I want to be right beside you."

Tara's expression shifted, a mix of fear and urgency. "There's someone trying to kill us,"

"I don't care," Iris shook her head. "You have to be insane if you think anything could pull me away from you."

"You can't say things like that,"

"Why not?"

Tara took a step back, breaking the charged space between them. "You know why," she said, her voice trembling as she turned to face the countertop, her back to Iris.

"What...?"" Iris pressed, feeling the ache of uncertainty.

"Would you two just make out already!" Mindy shouted, exasperation evident in her voice.

"The fuck, Mindy?" Iris replied, her cheeks flushing as she glanced at Tara, who looked equally flustered.

Mindy strode into the kitchen, her energy filling the space. "Seriously, just get over it!" Tara, trying to diffuse the tension, said, "I have to talk to Sam. Be right back," before she patted Iris's arm affectionately. Iris watched Tara leave, a longing ache settling in her chest.

"What was that all about?" Mindy pressed, her eyes narrowing on Iris.

"What?" Iris asked, trying to focus on pouring the sauce into the pan, as if that could distract her from the heat in her cheeks.

"You know, that whole Romeo and Juliet shit I just witnessed," Mindy raised an eyebrow.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Iris insisted, her voice slightly higher than usual.

Mindy groaned, frustration bubbling to the surface. After ensuring they were alone, she reached over and turned off the stove, prompting Iris to protest.

"Hey! I was cooking!"

"Don't care. We need an intervention here. You're really pissing me off," Mindy shot back, her voice firm.

"I didn't do anything! What the—" Iris began, but Mindy cut her off.

"Iris, I've been holding back on this because I hoped you'd figure it out yourself, but since apparently you have absolutely no brain cells in that pretty head of yours, it's time someone tells you the truth."

"Tell me what?"

"You like her. You like Tara," Mindy stated bluntly.

"What? No, I don't!" Iris stammered, embarrassment washing over her.

"For the past two years, I've seen you look at her like she's everything you've ever wanted," Mindy continued, her tone shifting to one of sincerity. "You literally have heart eyes when you talk to her."

"I don't like her like that! Absolutely not! What the hell?"

Mindy rolled her eyes, clearly frustrated with her friend's denial. "You hate dancing, yet you danced with her the other day. You hate horror movies, but you watch one with her every Friday night just because it's Tara's favorite thing. You hold her hand whenever you get the chance, and you remember every little detail about her. You might think nobody notices, but I see how you can't tear your gaze away from her when she isn't looking."

Mindy stepped closer, her grip firm on Iris's shoulders as if to ground her in reality. "She's the only one who brings a genuine smile to your face. You get all giddy and blushy when she pays attention to you, and let's not even talk about the jealousy when someone else tries to get close to her."

"So yeah, you don't just like her; you're in love with her," Mindy concluded, her voice softening.

"What?! I'm not! I..." Iris protested, her heart racing at the accusation.

"And honestly, it's getting embarrassing at this point. We're all waiting for one of you to make a move, but you're both acting like complete idiots" Mindy added, crossing her arms defiantly.

"Wait, both of us?" Iris asked, realization dawning on her.

"Iris, you're so oblivious. That poor girl could tell you she loves you and wants to marry you, and you'd still think she means it platonically," Mindy said, shaking her head in disbelief at her friend's stupidity "Tara has literally been waiting for you to do something for years. The fact that she's still waiting just shows how much she wants you,".

"You think she likes me? There's no way," Iris said, her disbelief palpable.

"Dude, why do you think I gave you the idea to write that letter to express your feelings?" Mindy asked, her tone serious. "Because I knew it was the only way you'd actually make a move, and she was obviously going to say yes, I wasn't going to set you up for failure"

"You don't know that," Iris replied, her voice tinged with doubt.

"Then why do you think Amber took that letter away and sent that text to separate you two? She knew that if Tara had gotten that letter, you would've never dated her. It was the only way she had to make you notice her".

"And look I'm not saying you didn't love Amber because unfortunately I know you did but you never unfell for Tara and now you finally have a chance to do something". Mindy urged, her expression softening. "I know a part of you is still afraid, but this is Tara we're talking about. The girl you spent most of your childhood being in love with, and she is also the one that spent all of that time loving you back. So could you please, for the love of God, do something about it? I just want you to be happy, and, okay, I may also want to win the bet Sam and I have going on."

"You guys have a fucking bet?" Iris asked, eyes wide with surprise.

"Can't tell you," Mindy replied, a teasing smile playing on her lips.

"You just did," Iris shot back, crossing her arms.

"Did I?"

"I can't believe you guys have a bet, people are dying out here," Iris said, half-laughing, half-exasperated.

"Still not an excuse for being a pussy" Mindy countered, giving Iris a light shove. "Make me proud, bestie. She's on the terrace."

With each step toward the terrace, Iris's heart raced. The conversation with Mindy echoed in her mind, pushing her forward. Iris felt a whirlwind of emotions stirring inside her, a mix of nervousness and disbelief that left her momentarily breathless. She had long acknowledged her feelings for Tara, yet the thought that Tara might share those feelings was something she never dared to entertain, but now that very possibility was all she could think about.

"Hey," she finally managed to say, her voice almost a whisper.

Tara jumped, placing a hand over her chest, her eyes wide with surprise. "Jesus, you scared me!"

Iris laughed softly. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to." She took a step closer, her pulse quickening with each moment spent in Tara's presence. "I came to let you know that food will be ready in a little bit."

Tara smiled, a hint of curiosity in her gaze. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, why?" Iris tried to sound casual, but her mouth betrayed her.

"You just look a little... weird, that's all."

"You calling me ugly?" Iris teased, the playful banter a welcome distraction.

"Never! You could never be ugly, believe me," Tara replied, patting Iris's arm affectionately. Before Iris could think better of it; she caught Tara's hand in hers, intertwining their fingers with a tenderness that sent a jolt of warmth through her.

"Your fingers are cold," Iris noted, suddenly aware of a slight tremor running through Tara's form. "Are you cold?"

"Mm, yeah," Tara whispered, her cheeks flushed with something more than just the chill in the air.

Without thinking, Iris pulled her closer, wrapping her arms around her in a warm embrace. "Is this okay?" she asked softly.

"Definitely," Tara replied, her voice muffled against Iris's shoulder. They held each other for what felt like an eternity, and Iris couldn't resist the urge to gaze at Tara. She ran her fingers through Tara's hair, tracing the gentle arch of her cheekbones, her eyes staring at the constellation of freckles that danced across her nose.

"Is there something on my face?" Tara asked suddenly, her voice teasing yet curious.

"No, why?" Iris replied, caught off guard.

"I can see you looking at me," a nervous smile blooming on her lips.

"Sorry," Iris whispered, feeling a blush creep into her cheeks. She tried to pull away, but Tara tightened her grip, refusing to let her go.

"Don't be sorry. Just... stay."

"Maybe I just like looking at you," Iris admitted, the words spilling out before she could think better of it.

Tara inhaled sharply, her expression shifting as if she were contemplating something significant. Then, she gently cupped Iris's face, drawing her attention back to her. "You like looking at me?"

"Yeah," Iris said, her heart racing. "I can't help it. You're just so..." She wrapped her arms around Tara's waist, pulling her even closer.

"So?" Tara prompted, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

"Beautiful." A deep blush spread across Tara's cheeks, illuminating her features in the middle of the night. Iris was mesmerized, her gaze locked onto Tara's captivating eyes, losing herself in their depths.

"Honestly? I think it's time I admitted I like looking at you too," Tara confessed, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah?" Iris breathed, a smile forming on her lips.

"I've liked looking at you ever since we were six, so... yeah." The space between them shrank to nothing; they could hear each other's breaths, feel the warmth radiating from their bodies. Iris was acutely aware of how fast her heart was pounding, wondering if maybe Tara could hear it too.

"Tara, I..."

But before Iris could finish her thought, a loud voice broke the moment. "HEY YOU TWO, FOOD IS READY!" Chad's call echoed up the stairs, shattering the delicate bubble they had created.

"You've got to be kidding me," Tara sighed, resting her forehead against Iris's, her breath mingling with Iris's in a way that felt almost sacred. Iris couldn't help but chuckle softly, feeling both amused and a little deflated.

"Come on, I'm hungry!" Tara finally disentangled herself from Iris but not before leaning in to plant a quick, lingering kiss on Iris's cheek. The gesture sent a jolt of warmth through the girl, leaving her momentarily frozen in place, her heart fluttering wildly.

"Let's go," Tara said, reaching for Iris's hand, their fingers still intertwined as they made their way downstairs.

In the kitchen, the atmosphere buzzed with the chatter of their friends, Mindy, Chad, and Sam all standing around the table. The three of them noticed their hands together but chose to let it slide without comment, a knowing smile exchanged among them. Iris stood beside Mindy leaning against the countertop, while Tara settled in beside her sister, but not before punching Chad in the arm as she passed.

"Hey, the fuck?" Chad exclaimed, feigning hurt, but Tara just rolled her eyes and ignored him.

"The others?" Iris asked, looking around.

"Quinn's in her room with some boy, and Anika's watching TV," Mindy replied, a hint of amusement in her voice.

"I already left some blankets on the sofa for

you all," Sam said, her voice filled with exhaustion as she reached for a bottle of wine. The strain of the last few days hung heavily on her shoulders, evident in the way her brow furrowed and her movements felt a bit slower.

"We don't have to stay here, you know," Mindy said, trying to keep the mood light, though a hint of worry crept into her voice.

"Well, too bad. I insist. Safety in numbers" Sam replied, her tone leaving little room for argument.

"This'll be so fun!" Chad interjected, a grin spreading across his face. "A little slumber party with the core five!"

"Core five?" Sam asked, her confusion evident as she raised an eyebrow.

"Did you just give us a nickname?" Tara teased, leaning back against the wall with her arms crossed, clearly amused.

"I sure did!" Chad exclaimed, his chest puffed out with pride. "I mean, we've been through a lot together. It's a pretty cool nickname!"

"That's debatable," Sam shot back, a smirk forming as she rolled her eyes.

"Extremely debatable" Tara chimed in.

"C'mon, you bunch of haters! The nickname fucking rocks". Iris laughed, clearly enjoying the playful banter. "Give me five, bro". Chad happily did so.

"You can't just give yourself a nickname, dingus," Mindy protested, shaking her head but unable to hide her smile.

"Of course I can, dingus, because I just did!" Chad insisted, raising his hand expectantly, waiting for everyone to join in. "Core five, up top!"

"Nah," Mindy replied, playfully waving her hand away.

"Get that away from me," Tara said with mock disdain, shaking her head as if Chad had offered her something distasteful.

"Iris, Sam, don't fail me now!" Chad pleaded, eyes wide with faux desperation.

"Come on, Sam, look at his face! How can you say no?" Iris pinched Chad's cheeks, trying to emphasize his supposed cuteness.

"I would like a little more respect and support from my fellow members of the Core Five," Chad huffed dramatically, crossing his arms while pretending to sulk.

Just then, they heard Anika's voice echoing from the hallway. "Guys, what the hell?" she called out, her tone sharp and urgent. The group exchanged quick, concerned glances and without a second thought, they all turned and rushed toward the living room.

"We're hearing from sources inside the homicide division that the prime suspect is none other than Samantha Carpenter, one of the survivors of the Woodsboro killing in 2022, seen here attacking a woman on the street last night."

Sam was quick to mute the television, the noise suddenly feeling overwhelming, and rushed out of the living room, seeking refuge in the kitchen. The other four exchanged worried glances before following her, signaling to Anika to stay put. They couldn't believe that some people would even think Sam was capable of doing something so terrible. The world could be cruel, and right now, Sam was suffering under its weight.

"I know it's tough, but don't listen to those people, Sam. They know nothing". Iris said as she settled down next to her, concern etched on her face. Tara nodded in agreement, moving closer to offer support.

"I know you're not a fan of how I've been handling things, and I get that I've given you a hard time," Tara said, taking Sam's hand in hers. "But I can say that none of us can relate to what you are experiencing." Sam turned to her sister, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

"And I'm really sorry that you have to do that alone," Tara continued softly.

"It's not your fault," Sam replied, taking a deep breath to steady herself. "I know I shouldn't care about what people think, but it just sucks being this hated." Her voice cracked slightly, revealing the vulnerability she was trying to hide.

Iris quickly handed her a napkin to wipe her tears, and Sam offered a grateful smile. "We will always be here for you, Sam," Iris reassured her, her tone warm and steady.

Just then, Chad and Mindy entered the room, their presence a welcome distraction. "Hey, just a reminder," Chad said, his voice firm yet comforting. "Not a single person in this room hates you, okay? We've all been through some fucked up stuff, and we're coping with it differently. But we moved here together for one very specific reason."

"We are a team," he finished, his words hanging in the air like a promise.

"Gosh, since when are you so wise?" Iris laughed through her tears, the tension in the room easing as everyone shared a soft chuckle.

Sam felt warmth spread through her as she looked at her friends, grateful for their unwavering support. "You guys really mean a lot to me,".

"We are the core five," Mindy declared dramatically, as if it were a big revelation.

"Thank you very much," Chad responded, grinning widely.

"I hate myself," Mindy joked, and without missing a beat, she high-fived Chad.

"Say it, guys, c'mon!" Iris urged, her finger pointing between Sam and Tara with an infectious enthusiasm.

"I mean, yes, we are a team, but..." Tara began, laughter bubbling up as they all joined in, the heaviness of the moment lifting, if only for a little while.

"I've been sleeping with cute boy from across the hall," Sam announced, her cheeks flushing a light pink.

"Boom!" Mindy shouted, her excitement reverberating through the small apartment.

"I fucking knew it!" Tara exclaimed, clapping her hands in delight.

"Finally, a hot guy, Sam! I'm so proud of you!" Iris chimed in, her voice filled with amusement but happiness for her friend.

"I mean, I totally knew it from the day you had that hickey!" Mindy joked, her laughter contagious and filling the room. The others burst into giggles, recalling the embarrassing moment.

Chad, sitting off to the side with a playful grin, leaned forward and said, "Does somebody else want to confess something?" He cast a teasing glance at Tara, clearly remembering the hand holding his two friends did.

"Don't look at me, you weirdo! I have nothing to say," Tara replied, feigning innocence while crossing her arms defiantly.

"Nothing?" Mindy asked in despair as she stared pointedly at Iris. "Jesus, this will never end!"

Tara quickly tried to redirect the conversation. "I feel like we should high-five or something,"

"Hell yeah, Core Five motherfuckers". Iris said enthusiastically, raising her hand in the air. The others quickly followed suit, each of them joining in for the playful moment.

Just then, Sam's phone began to ring loudly, cutting through their laughter. Tara's eyes lit up as she recognized the caller ID. "Look who it is!" she exclaimed, snatching the phone away and displaying it to everyone.

With a mischievous smile, she passed the phone to Mindy. They all erupted into laughter, pretending to answer it with exaggerated voices, playfully interrogating Danny about his intentions. Sam, still blushing, finally managed to get a word in, saying she would call him back later.

The mood took a sudden turn when strange noises started coming from upstairs. It was impossible to confuse the unmistakable sounds of moans.

"Quinn and her gentleman caller are back at it again," Tara remarked, rolling her eyes in disbelief.

"I swear to God, it's like she doesn't know how to be quiet!" Iris added, shaking her head with an amused grin.

Before they could continue their

conversation, a sudden chorus of phone notifications broke the moment, startling them all into silence. Iris felt her heart race as she glanced at the screen. A chilling image flickered before her eyes: Ghostface, looming menacingly over Quinn, a knife poised dangerously close to her throat. Time seemed to freeze as the reality of the situation sank in, and a sense of dread filled the room.

"What the hell?" Iris whispered in horror. Quinn's desperate shout for help echoed in their house, and instinct took over. They all sprang into action. Tara dashed toward Quinn's room, but Iris caught her arm just in time, her grip firm and unyielding.

"Stay here," she told her urgently, her eyes wide with fear.

"Chad, get ready," Iris’s voice was low but commanding as she pushed Tara toward him. He nodded, understanding what his friend meant.

The five of them, alongside Anika, stood tense and anxious, their breaths shallow as they faced the door. The sounds of chaos poured out from within: furniture crashing, muffled shouts, and a struggle that sent chills down their spines. Then, suddenly, the screams stopped and a horrible silence enveloped them.

"Run," Mindy hissed, her voice sharp with urgency. Just as the words left her mouth, the bedroom door burst open with a violent

force.

Ghostface emerged, a terrifying silhouette against the dim light of the hallway. With a swift, brutal motion, he hurled Quinn's limp body towards them. The thud of her landing was sickening, and Anika's scream pierced the air as Quinn crumpled on top of her.

Iris reacted instinctively, yanking Quinn's bloodied body away from Anika, panic and horror coursing through her veins. "No!

Quinn!" she cried, desperation clawing at her throat.

"We need to go!" Tara yelled, urgency in her voice. Chad clutched her arm, and they bolted for the door, believing their friends were right on their heels.

Suddenly, the air thickened with tension as Ghostface fixed his gaze on them, waiting to see who would make the first move. But there was no time to strategize; he surged forward, targeting Iris with deadly intent as he swiped his knife at her. She dodged every strike as quickly as she could, but eventually he sank his knife into her arm, causing her to scream in pain.

"Fuck you" She yelled and kicked the attacker hard in the crotch, sending him reeling back for a brief second that allowed her to stand up. When he got to his feet again, he turned and punched her in the stomach. Iris pushed away from the blow in time to see Ghostface lower his knife and impale it in the wall where her head had been.

Iris grabbed the back of his head, slamming it against the wall before delivering a kick to his legs. He turned around and strongly pushed her to the floor, ready to attack her once again.

Mindy rushed at him, determined to pull him away from Iris, but as they hit the floor, he simply shoved her aside and stabbed her in the upper arm, causing blood to flow everywhere.

Anika, still on the ground, grasped his ankles, trying to trip him and free Mindy. Ghostface quickly climbed over Anika, and he started to choke her before he lifted her up and slammed her into the fireplace as he sank his knife into her abdomen, slowly dragging it upwards, causing the woman to scream in agony.

Iris quickly sprang to her feet, grabbed a lamp close to the coffee table, and smashed it into Ghostface's head. He staggered and lost his grip on Anika as a result, while Mindy hurried to her girlfriend.

Sam entered just in time, slamming an empty knife block into Ghostface's head as she angrily punched him with it a couple of times.

"Come on!" Yelled Sam.

Despite the pain in her arm, Iris went over to Anika, threw an arm around her waist, and ran towards the nearest room, which happened to be Quinn's. She could feel Sam and Mindy approaching from behind, and they hurried into the room, locking the door as fast as they could.

"Fuck" Mindy sat in the bed and groaned as she put pressure in her arm, blood pouring out of it. Anika was sitting next to her groaning in pain while she held her stomach, they all tried to ignore the amount of blood she was losing.

"Hey, look at me," Iris said urgently, grasping both of Anika's cheeks with her hands to force her to focus. Anika's eyes fluttered, the effort to stay awake written all over her face. Iris could feel a wave of panic rising within her, but she fought it down. "Everything is going to be fine. I need you to stay awake, okay? Just look at me."

Anika blinked slowly, her gaze wavering as she tried to hold on to Iris's reassuring presence. In the background, they could hear Ghostaface grunting and pushing against the door, the sound echoing in the tense silence. Then, suddenly, he stopped, and the air grew heavier with uncertainty.

"Bathroom door, hurry," Sam whispered, fear lacing her voice as she looked at Iris with wide, frantic eyes.

Without hesitating, Iris nodded and darted toward the bathroom, her heart racing. She tried to ignore all the mess, the walls were smeared with remnants of blood and the floor didn't look much better.

As she reached the bathroom, the sight that met her made her stomach drop as she saw one of Quinn's hookups lying in his own pool of blood in the tub.

"Fuck, he is dead" Iris shouted as she reached the door, just as Ghostface barreled into view. She instinctively tried to slam it shut, but he forced his body against it, pushing his way through with surprising strength.

"Sam Help!" Iris yelled, her heart racing as she struggled to keep the door closed. Ghostface managed to thrust his arm inside, swiping his knife blindly as he tried to attack her.

Sam sprang into action, rushing to Iris's side. Together, they pushed against the door, straining to keep him at bay. With a final shove, they managed to block Ghostface's arm and wrestle the door closed. They quickly turned the lock, their breaths coming fast as they heard him pounding on the other side.

"We need to barricade it," Iris said, glancing at the dresser nearby.

Without a moment's hesitation, the girls shoved the dresser in front of the door. It scraped loudly against the floor, but they didn't stop until it was firmly in place, creating a barrier between them and the frantic pounding outside.

Panting, they leaned against the dresser for a moment, the adrenaline still coursing through their veins. "What do we do now?" Sam asked, her eyes wide with fear.

Iris took a deep breath, scanning the room for anything they could use. "We need to find a way out. We can't let him get in."

"Mindy, keep Anika awake!" Iris instructed, her voice urgent as she saw the girl on the verge of passing out. Mindy nodded, quickly grabbing a shirt from the floor. She pressed it against Anika's stomach, applying gentle pressure while trying to soothe her.

"Just focus on me, okay love? Keep your eyes open," Mindy said softly, her voice steady despite the horror surrounding them.

Suddenly, Iris spotted a familiar figure outside the window. "Is that Danny?" she asked, her heart racing with a mix of relief and anxiety. She glanced at Sam, who was already nodding as she continued pushing the dresser.

"Go! We've got this!" Mindy urged, stepping away from Anika momentarily to help Iris brace the door. They pushed against it with all their strength, feeling the pressure of the pounding on the other side.

"We are going to die" Mindy whispered, her voice trembling as the weight of the situation settled in.

"Don't fucking say that! You hear me?" Iris snapped. "Anika doesn't need to hear that right now." She turned back to Anika, her heart aching at the sight of her friend's pain-stricken face.

"Ani, you okay?" Iris shouted, forcing herself to remain calm. Anika nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks, though her expression was twisted in pain.

"Everything is going to be fine," Iris said, the words feeling heavy in her throat. She wasn't sure if she believed them, but she needed Anika to hold on.

Ghostface continued to bang violently on the door, each impact sending tremors through the walls as Danny handed a ladder over to Sam. She reached out to grab it, her fingers brushing against the cold metal just as another thunderous slam echoed through the room.

"Get ready!" Danny shouted, his voice strained as he positioned himself in the window to help.

Ghostface slammed into the door again, causing the dresser to shift slightly. Iris and Mindy pressed their backs against it, straining to gain better footing. Iris could feel the panic rising within her, but she refused to let it show. "Guys hurry" she yelled, her voice trembling.

"Only one of you will be able to cross at a time!" Danny shouted from the other side. "Come on!"

"C'mon, guys!" Sam urged, turning to face her friends.

"No way, you guys first!" Iris replied firmly, her resolve unshakeable as she pushed against the dresser, feeling it slide slightly under the pressure. "You go, Sam. You have to."

"Mindy!" Sam glanced at her, desperation flooding her voice.

"Go," Mindy said, determination hardening her features. "We'll hold the door. We'll be fine. We send Anika later" She exchanged a quick, reassuring glance with Iris, who nodded, feeling a surge of confidence from her friend.

Sam took a deep breath, her expression conflicted, but she knew there was no time to waste. "Okay," she finally said, her voice steadier. She carefully maneuvered her way to the window, the ladder swaying slightly beneath her.

“Cmon baby, You've got this!" he encouraged her, his eyes locked on her as she began to cross the ladder.

"I'm okay! Just hold on!" Sam shouted back, glancing over her shoulder to see Iris and Mindy bracing themselves against the dresser.

Once she reached the other side, she shouted, "Come on! Next person!"

The sound of Ghostface's relentless banging reverberated through the room, and Iris felt a rush of fear at the thought of losing her friends.

"Iris, it's your turn," Mindy urged, glancing over her shoulder.

"Fuck no, you go. I'll stay," Iris insisted, struggling against the dresser as Ghostface pressed closer.

Mindy helped Anika get toward the window. "You have to go first," she insisted.

"I can't," Anika whispered, panic rising in her voice.

"You have to please"

"Mindy, please," Anika begged, her eyes wide with fear. Mindy sighed, leaning in for one last kiss.

"I love you, okay?" she said softly, then made her way to the ladder, disappearing into the night.

"Now you, Anika, come on!" Iris called, moving to the window to help.

"I can't," Anika cried, shaking her head desperately.

"You have to! Please, I need to hold the door!".

"You go, Iris, please," Anika urged, her voice trembling.

"Anika, look at me," Iris said firmly, gripping her friend's face. "You are here because of me, because you're my friend and now he did this to you"

"It's not your fault," Anika replied, shaking her head, desperation filling her eyes.

"Yes, it is," Iris insisted, her voice steady despite the fear swirling around them. "I need you to get onto that ladder, okay? I can't let you die on me. I'll hold him off."

Anika's heart sank as she realized Iris had already made her decision. There was no changing her mind. With a heavy sigh, she nodded, determination replacing her fear as she stepped toward the window.

Iris moved to the door, her body tense as she braced herself against it. "Just go!" she shouted, her voice filled with urgency. Anika climbed onto the ladder, her hands trembling as she reached for the rungs.

As she moved, Anika felt the warmth of blood seeping through her clothes, each drop a reminder of the danger they were facing. Her strength waned with every movement, her bones feeling heavier, her vision dimming. Panic bubbled beneath the surface as she glanced back, seeing Iris struggling to keep the door shut against Ghostface's pounding.

"Come on, Anika! You can do this!" Iris shouted, her eyes fierce with fear. "Just a little further!"

Anika pushed herself to keep climbing, her heart racing. "Iris!" she called out, but the sound felt distant as her world began to blur.

Then, through the haze, she spotted Danny, his hands reaching for her from the other side of the window. Relief washed over her as she felt herself being pulled into the safety of his apartment. Just as she crossed the threshold, she heard Iris scream, the sound chilling her to the bone.

"IRIS, COME ON!" Sam shouted from the apartment, panic evident in her voice. She couldn't lose Iris now; it felt more real than ever in that moment.

Iris stood at the window, the ladder swaying slightly beneath her as she peered down into the darkness below. Her heart raced, each thud of Ghostface against the door echoing in her ears, a constant reminder that time was running out.

She took a deep breath, her injured arm pulsing with pain. The wound throbbed, making her hesitate as she gripped the ladder.

With trembling hands, Iris stepped onto the first rung. The metal felt cold beneath her fingers. She glanced back at the door, where the pounding intensified, splintering the wood with each blow. She could almost feel the dark figure on the other side, waiting for the moment when she would falter.

The ladder shifted slightly, and Iris's stomach dropped. She steadied herself, breathing deeply as she forced one foot after the other onto the rungs. Each movement sent jolts of pain through her arm.

Suddenly, a loud crack echoed through the room, the door splintering under the force of Ghostface's relentless assault. Panic surged through Iris as she felt him drawing closer, but she forced herself to focus. She was so close to the window, right in the middle of the way.

With every ounce of willpower, she pushed her body forward, her injured arm screaming in protest. The pain was sharp and relentless, but she couldn't afford to give in to it. Behind her, the door finally gave way, crashing open as Ghostface entered, his presence suffocating the air. He stepped into the room, eyes locked on her, and her heart dropped.

He approached the window and impaled the knife in the wood before reaching for the ladder. "No, no, no—fuck!" Iris whimpered, her desperation growing as she glanced back at Mindy and Sam, who were frantic with fear.

"IRIS, YOU HAVE TO MOVE NOW!" Mindy yelled, urgency lacing her voice. But Iris's eyes were glued to the figure at the window, dread pooling in her stomach as Ghostface lifted the ladder with ease, shaking it violently. The metal rattled beneath her, each jolt sending a wave of terror coursing through her.

Iris took another step, her heart pounding in her chest. The ladder swayed again, and she felt a rush of vertigo. "No, no, no," she muttered under her breath, gripping the rungs tighter.

Ghostface shook the ladder again, trying to dislodge her. Iris could feel the metal creaking beneath her as she lay flat against it, fighting to maintain her grip. Her heart raced, and she felt herself teetering on the edge. Sam's hand brushed hers, but she couldn't get a solid hold.

"Iris!" Sam urged, panic etched on her face. "Just a little further!"

"No!" Iris cried out, feeling her grip weaken as the ladder wobbled precariously. "I can't".

"Iris, you have to keep going!" Mindy shouted, her voice breaking through the chaos.

Iris squeezed her eyes shut, summoning every ounce of strength she had left. She pushed against the pain in her arm, forcing herself to move. With a deep breath, she began inching forward, her body trembling with fear and exhaustion.

Ghostface was still right there, the knife gleaming menacingly as he gripped the ladder, continued to shake it, his movements gleaming with malicious intent.

Sam reached out, stretching half of her body out of the window, her heart racing as she desperately tried to reach for Iris. Danny and Mindy embraced her in order to protect her from falling. Finally, her fingers found Iris's forearm, she gripped it tightly, not willing to let go of the girl. "I've got you!" she shouted, pulling with all her strength.

Danny joined Sam and together they managed to inch her closer. With one last, frantic effort, Danny scrambled through the window, his arms wrapping securely around Iris. He pulled her into the apartment with a powerful yank.

Iris rolled into the room, gasping as she hit the floor. The moment felt surreal, the adrenaline still coursing through them as she scrambled to her feet. But just as relief began to wash over them, they all turned and froze. There stood Ghostface, staring coldly at them from the window of their apartment. The knife glinted menacingly in his grip.

"I'm going to kill you motherfucker" Iris shouted, her voice laced with anger and fear. The words echoing in the small space. "You heard me? I'll fucking end you!"

Ghostface stood still for a heartbeat, seemingly assessing them, before slowly backing away as he slipped out of the room.

"Iris, thank god you're okay!" Sam exclaimed, wrapping her arms around her friend in a tight embrace, her relief palpable as tears streamed down her cheeks. "You're okay."

But the moment of safety was short-lived. "We need to get her to the hospital right now!" Danny shouted, urgency in his voice as he moved towards the door. He had Anika in his arms, applying pressure to her wound, his face strained with concern.

Iris swayed slightly, still in shock but nodding at Danny's command. "He's right" she managed to say. Just as she began to move, her strength gave out, and she suddenly collapsed to the ground.

[caligvlasaqvarivm]

How murderous is Karkat and Eridan?

Eridan: "killin is all i evver done practically the ocean wwas my killing cauldron"

Karkat: loves his friends so much that it hurts

They're both really blasé about killing things like imps or game enemies, and neither of them WANT to hurt their friends. Eridan's just more used to it because it was his whole job, and he's a lot better at fighting than Karkat is.

Vriska at one point says to John that her bodycount is probably "many thousands," so we can probably use that as a reference and assume Eridan's in that same bracket, because he and Vriska have a lot of parallels. In fact, I'd go so far as to call Vriska and Eridan a literary device called "parallel characters" - by listening to Vriska tell John about her feelings about her bodycount and of her place in society, we get to learn about how Eridan's feeling, too.

If we set the bar at 3000 (the low end of "many thousands") and Vriska and Eridan are both the equivalent of 13 years old, or a little less than 700 weeks, that meant he and Vriska were averaging out to multiple kills a week (and given they probably didn't start when they were newhatches and 3000 is a low estimate, like... it was probably an insane number like 5-7 kills/week). But never anyone they "cared about," in Vriska's words, until the Team Charge debacle, or Eridan went berserk on Feferi and Sollux (we should also keep in mind that Eridan outright says to Kanaya that he doesn't want to kill people he considers his friends).

But Eridan is significantly less emotionally intelligent than Vriska (a fucking feat), has less of a support system, and has a lot of Duty and Responsibility and Fate of the Species on his shoulders, so he copes a lot worse (again, a fucking feat). For Eridan, it's less about "being murderous," and more about "society demands that I be murderous" + "if I am not murderous, everybody dies" + "when I grow up, murder is my only viable career path".

He's ANXIOUS AS FUCK at his core. Via their parallel character status, we know from Vriska that they're both actually really nervous about growing up and taking their place in a society that demands bloodshed from them. When Eridan obsesses over genocide, it's a byproduct of Literally Being The Guy That Is Preventing Genocide (to the point of not really having other hobbies). We also know that he feels guilt towards his victims (or at least more than Feferi), which we know from Vriska is societally unacceptible. And if it's unacceptible for her to feel bad, then imagine how much less okay it is for the sea dweller.

So I wouldn't necessarily call Eridan murderous - like with most things regarding Eridan, it's more complicated than that - but I would call him "on a hair trigger", "conditioned to reach towards murder as an early solution," and "obsessively/anxiously trying to live up to how murderous society demands he be," all while not at all wanting to kill people he cares about. I think it's really important to note that, even though the higher the blood the more volatile the troll, and despite being unauspiced and unmoirailled, and without relying on sopor, Eridan did not start shooting to kill until Sollux and Feferi escalated the situation.

And before anyone mentions that Feferi's in the same boat, she spends practically the whole time with Sollux, who is foreshadowed to be her moirail.

Like, the tragedy of Eridan's character is that he's lonely and terrified, but does such a good job at putting up an obnoxious front that even a lot of the audience became convinced that he basically sucked and his problems didn't matter. His dumbass plan to go to Jack was a genuine attempt to save Feferi, the person he cared most about.

If you go back and look at that conversation, Eridan's casual casteist threats aren't genuine (see my pinned Eridan essay for details) - and SOLLUX is the one who says "I should have killed you when I had the chance". And Eridan DOESN'T KILL SOLLUX, because this whole time, Eridan has not wanted to kill his friends. It's not until Feferi - the person he cares most about, the one whom he concocted that suicidal mission in order to save - turns on him in agreement that Sollux should've killed him - that makes Eridan finally lose it.

Meanwhile, Karkat just loves his friends. He loves them so fucking much. I think this is pretty well-documented about him? He's got no qualms about murdering game constructs like imps and the black king, but he feels deeply fucking hurt and betrayed by Bec Noir since he bonded with Jack/Spades Slick. I don't think Karkat ever makes a genuine death threat against anybody but past!Eridan, but he and Eridan are heavily foreshadowed to be moirails, and that conversation has a hilarious bit in the middle where Karkat seemingly forgets that he's mad at the guy and just starts telling him he's a dumbass. Later on, he expresses missing his dead friends, including/especially the assholes, in the same segment as the meteor runs into dead Feferi and Eridan, so I think that that was more an angry outburst than a genuine desire to see Eridan dead.

In fact, even though he's basically shown nothing but scorn for Gamzee and Gamzee's religious beliefs and clown-ness, and even after Gamzee murders two people and seems to be trying to murder them all, Karkat can't bring himself to kill or even fight the guy, just shooshpap him down, later ranting that Gamzee was a lovable bullshit clown that he liked a lot, and (one of) his best friend(s).

So they're both in this boat of not wanting to kill their friends, but feeling societally pressured into grandstanding that they're TOTALLY murderous assholes just trust me - but Eridan was in a position where he was forced to do it at the detriment of any other hobbies, or else everybody died, and is also one of the best fighters on the team, if not THE best. Thus, the fact that it's a viable option is not only near the forefront of his mind at all times, but he has the skills to resort to it. I guess technically, that does make him more murderous, but it's also, like... any normal person in his situation would wind up the same way, honestly.

[glamourscat]

Can I get any headcanons for Rin Okumura w/ a foreign s/o who’s trilingual? Like maybe they have a sort of culture shock in their lifestyle differences? Maybe the s/o can be from a completely different continent and studying to become an exorcist from their nationality section? Just a thought, if not, feel free to ignore mad delete the quest plz and thank you!

a/n: I ABSOLUTELY LOVE RIN THANK YOU FOR THIS ASK😭🙏🏻 also sorry for eventual grammar errors :/

* now, this might be wishful thinking of me, but considering the Japan branch is controlled by the grigori and there are multiple scenes in the manga where some of the characters mention just being back from the Vatican

* I like to think the oldest, and main, branch of the exorcist is indeed in Italy, Rome, near the Vatican headquarters. Is basically the oldest and most powerful institution, having people all over the globe.

* I imagine that one day, the Japan branch is in need of new members, so the Italian branch sends some of the students to form overseas

* Which is how you meet the others and Rin. Mephisto presented you and your whole group to the class. Maybe you just so happen to sit beside Rin. Which would be both amusing and awkward as he is an odd ball.

* Especially if he is under the impression you don’t speak Japanese very well, he will stare at you like this 🧍🏻‍♂️(cut to a broken English moment like bachira in that one clip of blue lock)

* But anyway, I think he would be the most prone and interested right off the bat. He loves cooking and baking, we know that right? So imagine him asking you for recipes on recipes from your country.

* Still, Japan has a very different culture, especially if you’re from Europe/the states. I can see someone who’s not used to remove their shoes indoor 24/7 for example, forgetting about it and Rin just looks at you like this

* The thing is, despite the little differences Rin always felt he didn’t fit in. Since before he found out he was half demon. So, falling in love with a foreigner it’s not too far fetched for him. He is probably one of the few who I can actually see dating (and marrying) a foreigner.

* He knows what it means being different, feeling the odd one out, so the little cultural differences don’t really face him that much

* If anything, with the excuse of spending more time with you, he will try to teach you a few things here and there

* How to use chopsticks. The proper honours greeting in Japan. How to act in temples.

* Rin is not one to follow the rules, but he is still respectful and excited for traditional Japanese celebrations. By good or stories, he will try to immerse you in the culture somehow

* Which side note, but I can 100% see him dressing you and him up in a kimono for a festival that requires more traditional wearing

* Also, he was sheltered most of his life— considering his troubled childhood. We saw in the impure king arc how excited he was at the idea of travelling to Kyoto that I wouldn’t put it past him if he had looked up “Kyoto itinerary what to see”

* So having a s/o who speaks multiple languages? That’s just a bonus. He will follow you like a puppy around the world just excited to be with you and being able to share these opportunities.

* After all, being an exorcist means travelling all over the place the higher your position in. And Rin wants to become the paladin. Sooo, kill two birds with one stone?

[hjparisian]

so long, london- remus j lupin x reader

p: remus lupin x fem!reader w: sad, angst, like one or two cuss words, mentions of death s: the deaths of lily and james potter and the imprisonment of sirius black have led to a rift between (y/n) and remus' relationship. both haunted by that one night, it was only a matter of time until one of them left a/n: please bear with me in this as im not super knowledgable about the mauraders era but i hope this is okay! if yall have a 1000 page doc about this era, send it my way

Halloween of 1981 had to have been one of the darkest days in history. Lily and James Potter were dead, killed by Voldemort. Peter Pettigrew, dead, killed by his own friend Sirius Black, who is now in Azkaban.

Remus was still grieving the death of Marlene McKinnon when he found out about what happened to his best friends. He could barely hold in his tears as he held (Y/N) in his arms, who was already sobbing at the news.

The two couldn't believe it. How could Sirius Black sell out his own best friend and his wife to the Dark Lord? How could he kill his friends? Had he been hiding his loyalty this whole time?

The days following James and Lily's deaths were spent in darkness. Remus would sit in the room he and (Y/N) shared, staring at the fairy lights stringed about the walls. (Y/N) would spend her mornings doing tasks for the Order, while at night she would wallow in the arms of Remus.

Just when they thought things were terrible, it unfortunately got worse.

(Y/N) and Remus' good friend Dorcas Meadowes was found dead. Killed by Voldemort himself. Why? They'll never know.

The two were distraught, (Y/N) more so than Remus as she was closer to Dorcas. It appeared that (Y/N) would follow in Remus' own routine, hiding away in the spare bedroom that they used to let their friends rest in when they were over. At nights, she would return to her and Remus' bedroom to shower and sleep.

Remus could hear her sobs during her showers.

As the days went on, (Y/N) had began to accept the fate of her friends. Or she was hiding her true emotions from Remus, who remained a mess at the loss of his mates. Each day, (Y/N) would try to talk with Remus and get him out of the house. Unfortunately, the only time he would leave was during the full moon so not to hurt her.

Remus began distancing himself from (Y/N). He'd wake up earlier than her, he would have lunch before her, he would keep himself locked in the bedroom during the day, wait 'til she was asleep to turn in.

Anything to be alone.

(Y/N) had tried to follow Remus' new routine, trying to catch him whenever she could. Even if she had to wake up earlier than she would, even if she had to stay up later to see Remus join her in bed. Anything she could to try to talk with Remus.

Silly girl.

It became rare for the two to even have a long lasting conversation, let alone a lighthearted, joyful chat. Any words spoken were those of sorrow and anger. The young woman had once attempted to talk to Remus about his mood changing, trying to get him to talk through it.

It ended in tears and slamming doors.

Since that talk, tensions between the two were higher than ever, and not in the way one may think. They began to have more arguments in a month than they ever had in their entire relationship.

Though one argument was not like the others.

"Rem, come on!" She pleaded with him. "You haven't been outside in months! Everybody is starting to assume you're dead!"

"Well let them think that! Everyone I cared or loved is already dead. Anyone who's ever loved me is gone."

"But what about me?" She asked him. "I'm still here Remus. But lately you act like I'm not!"

Remus stops his tracks in the living room. "Sorry that our friends dying has affected me so badly."

"Remus, you're acting like you're the only one affected by their deaths." She says to him. "I'm upset about it too. They were my friends as much as they were yours."

"You never knew James or Sirius or Peter like I did," Remus yells at her. "You never spent most of your school years with them, knowing every little thing about them."

"That doesn't mean we weren't friends and you know that Remus. You're acting like they were the only people you've lost," the woman says. "I lost Lily. I lost Marlene, Dorcas. Hell, have you even heard about what happened to Mary? She's gone missing Remus! They're saying she might've been killed."

"You don't need to remind me everyone that's gone, (Y/N)! I'm more than aware of what's happening and I don't need to be reminded."

The woman huffed. "Well with the way you're locked up here, it seems like it."

"Not everyone can carry on with their lives after finding out someone who was basically like family is dead!" Remus shouts.

"Well, sorry I've been busy distracting myself with work from the Order! Trying to do what I can to help anyone that left!"

All Remus could do was roll his eyes, frustration clouding his emotions. "Why even bother? They couldn't save our friends, now they're gone! You're being stupid."

"Remus-"

"Bloody hell, I can't do this. I'm leaving." The boy declares, having enough of this.

Remus stomped out the door, slamming it behind him. All (Y/N) could do was dropped to her knees in tears, exhaustion hitting her. Sobs filled the empty room.

The man fled to the streets of London, finding shelter in a hotel near the heart of the city. He spent a few nights there, getting the space he felt he deserved. Remus had no one to talk to about this, and sitting in a lonely white bed had reminded him of it.

No James. No Lily.

No Sirius. No Marlene.

No Peter. No Dorcas.

No Mary.

He had no one. Except (Y/N).

Oh what an idiot he is.

Remus had let his anger get the best of him. He had yelled at his favorite girl and basically told her to fuck off. What a dick he is. The fight had began to flood his head, reminding him of how much he screwed up.

He had to go find her.

The werewolf quickly left the hotel, determined to return to where he and (Y/N) were last together.

He ran to the streets and waved his arms haphazardly, aiming to flag down the nearest cab. He stumbled inside the next one that stopped for him and told him the address.

As soon as the cab stopped by his house, Remus gave him money and ran to the door. He took the key from his pocket and unlocked their apartment door. He pushed the door open to a silent living room.

"Hello?" Remus calls out. "(Y/N) are you here?"

The young man began wandering through the apartment, which seemed slightly emptier than usual. His bedroom seemed the most off to him. He couldn't have been away that long, right?

A white envelope sitting against a vase on the night stand had caught his eye. 'Remus' was written on the front in pretty handwriting that he knew belonged to his girlfriend. He opened it up to reveal a letter for him.

He sat on the floor against his bed and began reading it. As he read through it, he felt his heart crumbling to pieces. It felt like everything was hitting him all at once.

Remus,

I've decided it was time for me to say so long to the place I once called home.

As much as I love this place, London, England, I cannot bear being here anymore. All the memories I've made with everyone will haunt me knowing I've been the unfortunate one who was chosen to be alive out of them.

I'll be leaving the country to go who knows where. Anywhere will be better than here. I think I'd implode if I stayed here any longer.

I've also decided to start clean and leave my wizarding roots behind. As much as I loved being a witch, going to Hogwarts and learning magic, I can't think about it without being reminded of what happened. I don't want my past to follow me around.

I'm sorry I couldn't have done better, Remus. I'll miss you, and I hope your life gets better. Hope you find someone better.

~(Y/N).

The letter fell from his hands.

Remus couldn't believe it. He had lost the last person in his life that cared for him. His whole world was gone, taken from him.

"Fuck."

He stood up and shoved the vase to the ground out of anger, watching it shatter. Water ran across the floor under the broken pieces and ruined flowers.

A wave of emotions hit Remus all at once. He didn't know what to feel. There was nothing he could do to change the past.

Poor young Remus. He was truly alone, forever.

[goldstargloww]

canary curse things. thinking about canary curse things

i'm hesitant to say the canary curse has been broken—what, no, of course it has been, jimmy died second instead of first, and the canary curse is all about dying first— okay hear me out i swear i make sense

my thought is that patterns can change. patterns aren't always static ones. just because something new happened this time around doesn't mean the pattern's been broken, it may have just changed its rules a bit.

joel had a pattern of having no true allies up until double or limited life, where it instead became a pattern of being isolated, for example

now, before we get into the canary curse specifically, let's talk about some other patterns

scott and martyn tend to drag themselves as well as their allies up the leaderboard. they both tend to outlive their allies. grian tends to kill his allies. ...i feel like i should put more here but that's all i can think of right now

now, the way i see it, is scott, martyn, and jimmy in particular all have some sort of weight to them. positive meaning they drag themselves and their allies up the leaderboard, negative meaning the opposite. scott and martyn have a positive weight, whereas jimmy has a negative one.

what i think's happened here is that martyn and jimmy's weights have tugged on each other, and as a result, martyn turned yellow and red first instead of much later on, and jimmy died second instead of first.

jimmy's pull is strong, i think, and so he tends to die first every time. just because he tends to die first every time doesn't make that a rule, though - it just makes it a pattern, one that's been broken. the pattern that hasn't been broken, though, is jimmy being one of the earliest to die, and jimmy dragging his allies down the leaderboard with him.

jimmy died first in 3rd life, and dragged scott down to 10th, and scott finally turned yellow right before jimmy died. jimmy died first in last life, and dragged mumbo down with him, and they were a similar color pretty much the whole time. jimmy died first in double life, and dragged tango down with him. jimmy died first in limited life, and joel died quickly after. jimmy died second in secret life, and dragged martyn's color down with him.

martyn, though, doesn't die yet, because of his positive weight. he's often tugged further up the leaderboard, and so while jimmy may drag his color down and martyn ends up first yellow and red, martyn still manages to stay afloat.

martyn is stubborn is the thing, lmao. he stays alive out of spite and just because he wants to, and so he does, and he makes sure he does. now that the stakes are higher and one wrong move could mean losing everything, he's being a lot more careful than he was earlier on.

and let me just reiterate for a second - he's stubborn. once he's got an idea, he's locked onto that idea until he gets it done or literally can't anymore. martyn will drive himself up the wall before he gives up on something and even then he'll need convincing or more likely a distraction. he didn't give up on ren in third life til he died and couldn't do anything anymore. he didn't give up on trying to kill scott in last life til he died and couldn't do anything anymore. he didn't give up on getting a diamond chestplate in secret life until he got it despite how much it cost him in the end. outside the life series, even, i'm rewatching rats right now- martyn will try to climb a wall over and over and over until he gets it or something gets in the way. he'll be texturing a model and complain to chat about how painful it is and still decide to spend the next hour and a half getting the damn thing done even though he should've logged off for bedtime 2 hours ago. (yes martyn i am calling you out, enjoy)

and so martyn doesn't die! he's yellow first, he's red first, and all other red names die, but martyn doesn't. because yeah, maybe he's impulsive, but he's in this for himself and himself alone and there's no way in hell he's dealing with a wither and a warden that's just killed three people. (he did try and steal the kill though. martyn do you remember what happened last time you tried to steal the kill, you fell into the void and died)

jimmy isn't as stubborn. jimmy's a lot more forgiving, a lot more lenient, and as much as he's being more aggressive this season, he's reckless about it and impulsive and his reputation isn't helping him here.

jimmy lets things happen to him. as upset as he might act about it, he never actually does anything about it, and it gets him killed. he's afraid to break the rules, he's afraid to make people uncomfortable or upset or hurt, he starts genuinely tearing up at the thought of pulling a bait and switch on skizz, and that's the kind of thing martyn does on a daily basis lmao

jimmy is forgiving and passive, martyn and scott don't forget so easily and aren't afraid to make people upset, grian's somewhere in between.

[edibleashell]

TUA S4 feels

Pretty sure that Umbrella Academy S4 finale left a permanent scar on my psyche. Still one of my favorite shows but I might just end after season 3 in future rewatches. So many issues with S4.

In like episode 1 we got Ben and Jennifer touching and that started a countdown to the end of the world and the whole season was just junk to fill that time. So many good ideas that weren't done properly at all. Shuffling their powers? Alternate timelines? Hargreaves owning pretty much everything? Abigail just being alive? Pointless.

Luther was just a repeating loop of stripper and home decorating jokes.

Diego should have been a martial arts instructor or something not a depressed delivery guy. A bunch of jokes about him getting out of shape only to reveal that he's still jacked. He throws a potted plant and misses. His arc is just Big Sad for no reason and the relationships he built in the first three seasons were apparently irrelevant, if anyone would have been taking care of Safety Klaus it would have been him.

Allison's character was just an accessory to Klaus, after three seasons of her trying to reclaim the family she lost she ended up spending more time as a tool to Klaus's arc than she did with Claire. And Ray just being casually written out was so disrespectful.

Klaus, oh poor Klaus, my favorite character, what did they do to you? He should have been a nurse or something but instead he was paranoid, then pissed off because the writers decided that Klaus would equate marigold with drugs and just fall right off the wagon? And then he goes to some sketchy guy he owes money to even though S1 Klaus is shown just buying drugs from random people? All to justify his prisoner plot, none of which had any real impact. And he can fly for a second for some reason. Okay.

Five working for the CIA was bad. He should have been the retired fun uncle to Claire and Grace. After spending fifty years trying to get back to his family why did he keep leaving them? Why did he hook up with his brother's wife after only six years? And am I supposed to believe that in every timeline he has the same haircut? That none of the other Fives lost their arm? How did he never notice his boss's blatant umbrella tattoo? He just casually strolls through "his" apocalypse as though he doesn't have ptsd, and why were he and Lila living off sewer rats when they had infinite timelines to scavenge?

I was so excited to see Ben witg the family but one episode in he becomes a bomb and fucks off with a girl who can hardly be called a character.

Viktor was the only character I thought got some form of authenticity and justified growth, his arc kind of seemed like a ripoff of S3 Klaus though. And we missed out on what could have been a really beautiful scene of him drawing the upside down umbrella on his arm.

Lila went from "I don't want to be like my mom" to a motherhood cliche. And what was the deal with her family? She just found her parents and they immediately accepted her or something? Was there another Lila in this universe? That made no sense. If anyone would have joined the CIA it would have been her. Her and Diego should have been weird parents teaching their kids how to fight and kill but instead they got some domestic life that those characters never belonged in.

And there's so much more! Abigail is alive? Hardly relevant. Why did she body snatched Gene, it didn't really seem to change anything. The Keepers existed only to be a minor obstacle in the last episode. And are her and Reggie aliens? Why? How? What's the point?

AND DURANGO? THAT'S A CAR! Harland named marigold and for a farm kid that makes sense (though the retconned acceptance of that word into Umbrella vocabulary was irksome) But Durango? Abigail is a scientist and she names The Bad Dust after an SUV? Why?

AND WHY WAS THERE ZERO QUEERNESS? Each of the first three seasons had some sort of queer arc but not this one. I still wonder if some higher-up didn't intentionally assassinate the show as backlash for the immense respect S3 gave Elliot Page.

One last thing, music is a big part of the show, they've always put such thought and care into the soundtrack and it makes sense knowing who the creators are, so why, of all songs, was Baby Damn Shark the first song to be featured in like three episodes? It seems intentionally disrespectful.

I'm done, rant over, I'll never recover from this.

[silmarillaure]

Finweans ranked by Aura

Feanor - So powerful he sucked the life force out of his mother, invented a ton of cool shit, had more children with his wife than any of the other Eldar, died in battle while his body combusted into flames because he was just that hot, & the King of the Valar who he hated cried over him.

Earendil - Cool as hell, has a wife who's cool as hell. Predestined to be a hero even though he comes from a basic vanilla bloodline (besides his great grandpa Fingolfin). Even though most of his ancestors were nobodies or flops, most of his descendants that came after him were cool as hell.

Maedhros - Might have been higher than his father & cousin if he didn't khs, Lowkey an Aura loss moment but he makes up for a lot with his gorgeous red hair, height, surviving Morgoth's torture, & sorta fulfilling his dad's dumb oath.

Fingolfin - The only good thing his bland vanilla mother did was give birth to him. He was a total badass I've got to admit even as a Feanorian stan. Him crossing the helcaraxë & his death were top Aura moments.

Elrond/Elros - They're twins so they can share a spot too. Both badass as hell.

Fingon - Called "the Valient", braids gold into his hair, saved his sexy redheaded cousin, & became King of the Noldor. Everything about him screams Aura.

Galadriel - Despite the fact she's a Feanor anti (Booooo!!!), she admittedly has a ton of Aura. She's smarter than possibly everyone else here given she survived when the rest of her generation either got themselves killed or spends all their time being a sad beach cryptid.

Gil-Galad - Cool as hell, managed to make an alliance Maedhros could only dream of.

Maglor - Has a couple Aura loss moments but in the end he LIVED which is an Aura gain. Also gets Aura points for having the best voice in Arda.

Celebrimbor - Pretty rad dude, love how he's more like Feanor than his father Curufinwe Jr is, unfortunately he died.

Finrod - His death is cool as fuck. Looses points for cockblocking his little brother & dying for that basic joe Beren though.

Caranthir - Goth Icon. Love how despite his raging anger issues he's also an awesome guy you'd want to be friends with.

Finwe - A massive flop in a ton of ways but definitely still has Aura. Looses Aura points for failing Feanor & choosing to marry an unsexy Vanya when he could've waited for his sexy talented silver haired Noldo wife to come back to life. Only good thing about him besides his awesome hair is that he's Feanor & Fingolfin's father.

Aredhel - Cool as hell but has terrible taste in men. Her whole white aesthetic & her wild personality gain her Aura points though.

Turgon - The only cool thing about him is that he built Gondolin which wins him some Aura points. Looses Aura points for getting played by his nephew & dying pathetically though.

Idril - She's cool I guess, the only thing of note that she did was give birth to the chad Earendil. Tuor is such a basic guy though, he's not the worst but she could do better.

Aegnor - Cool hair. Pulled a baddie. Fumbled the baddie.

Angrod - Not the most stand out Finwean but he seems to be a mama's boy & he didn't do anything wrong so I'll put him above the family flops.

Finduilas - She's a sweetie but she looses Aura points for falling out of love with a great guy like Gwindor & falling in love with Turin the walking L.

Celegorm - Stupid as hell for trying to use a powerful half-Angel as a political weapon against her father. Looses more Aura points for getting abandoned by his dog & dying at the hands of said half-Angel's 30 y/o mortal son while he's over 1000 y/o. Gains some Aura points for being able to talk to animals, his hair, & his hot bastard energy.

Curufin - Feanor with 99% less Aura. His only achievement is having Celebrimbor yet he still couldn't even succeed at being Feanor 2.0 and having 7 kids to continue the family line. Had the chance to kill Eol but didn't which led to his favorite cousin dying (that's a huge L).

Finarfin - Takes after his mother in the sense he's vanilla af. The tiny percent of Aura he has is from his Noldo side obviously and he used that to pull a baddie like Earwen. All his kids get their Aura from their mother's side.

Orodreth - I like the guy, but he's definitely a dumbass with no Aura. He inherited a kingdom but isn't particularly good at anything. His only accomplishment is possibly fathering Gil-Galad.

Maeglin - Orodreth might have no Aura but this guy has negative Aura. His childhood sucked but he's such a walking L that's he's somehow more of a loser than both Celegorm & Eol combined.

[screeching-bunny]

for yandere general, what if their darling doesn’t follow the routine because they just don’t like it ? Like, he wants them to wake up early but they really like sleeping in and when he gets mean about it (even just saying no ) they start to cry

Yandere! General Asks 1

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Yandere Thoughts, Bad Writing, Stalking, Possessive Behavior, Reader is Referred as ‘You’

You hated everything about the lifestyle Yandere! General forced upon you. It was all so restricting and you barely had any say in what you wanted to do. You were almost at your breaking point. You’ve just recently gotten married to him and the rules that you were given were just so stupid in your opinion. Like why did you have to wake up so early just to please him? So you decided that instead of listening to him, you’d just sleep in. Which is exactly how your mini revolution and protest had started.

At the start, Yandere! General didn’t mind it too much. He just figured that since you recently got into married life you’re just testing the waters and will soon come to understand his routine. However, this behavior of yours over time had gotten worse and most of your behavior was seriously starting to irritate him. It was due to this that he started to become meaner and stricter with every little thing that you did. Every mistake you made was met with criticism from his behalf and a sterned look at.

In his mind this was technically his fault for not making you understand that you didn’t have a choice in this. The whole idea of rules and order were something that should be obeyed. He may have a soft spot for you but at this point into the relationship he’ll happily punish you. Things like decreasing human socialization from others, forcing you to be near his side at all times, and etc have become the norm for you. These punishments mostly involved you being near him 24/7. He holds you to a higher expectation than others so he expects only the best from you.

You are however, very resilient and no matter what he throws at you, you won’t allow him to break your spirit. Right now, you were in your shared bedroom and absolutely refused to get up. It was your precious beauty sleep and you weren’t going to let anyone stop you from having it. You were about to go deeper into dreamland until you heard a loud bang from the door which caused your body to boot up straight.

In front of you stood the tall body of Yandere! General who loomed over you. “Why are you still in bed?!” When you heard this you weren’t immediately alarmed you assumed that after a few moments he would let you off easily like all the other times. What you didn’t realize was that his face looked different today, one that looked like it would take no for an answer and wouldn’t listen to your demands.

“I’m just sleeping in.” With that response he starts to make his way out of your room and lock the door. “Since you like that room so much, let’s see how long you can spend in it!” Rushing towards the door, you try to pry it open to no avail. No worries, he’s never been away for longer than a day, he’ll be back, right? Yeah, totally not.

It’s been about a month since that incident occurred and you could not handle it. You needed some form of human interaction. He’s isolated you before but not from him! This was seriously getting to you. You were getting fed but none of the maids would even look or acknowledge you. You’d honestly kill for a conversation right now. With teary eyes, you have up and banged on the door. Tears blasting down your eyes you scream, “Yandere! General please let me out!! I’m so sorry, I promise I’ll follow the routine! Please, just let me talk to you!!”

As soon as those words were said the door immediately opened and he stepped in. His large hand whisking away your tears as they fell from your cheeks. He said with a gentle voice, “Did you learn your lesson?” You nodded your head as fast as you could. “Good, because the next time this happens I promise I won’t be as nice!” Flinching at the time of his voice you then begin to calm down. “Everything that I do is for your own good. The sooner you realize that, the better.”

With that out of the way, he brought you to his office where he forced you to sit on his lap while he did paperwork. The sound of paper being flipped over caused your eyelids to slowly fall as you began to take a nap on him. What you didn’t notice is that if you look up, you’d see the victory smirk on his face as he grinned at you. Watching you cling so tightly to him caused him to basically almost coo. Maybe he should isolate you in a room more often. It wouldn’t be so bad if you acted cute like this everyday, now wouldn’t it? With that, he gave you a small peck on the forehead and continued on with his paperwork.

Asks 2