#bo watches the terror

[obiwan-kenxbi]

Bo-Katan: I don’t like Mandalorian infighting

girl this you?

[merrysithmas]

please give me a run down of what bo katan has done because I watched a summary of her life and all but I need to know I need to know and you seem to know

just reblogged a couple posts for you on this!

[blueflipflops]

Instead of Jango surviving that attack at the Fett farm, it's Arla who gone on a tunnel visioned revenge plan on those who had wronged her and hers.

It has consequences.

She tackles her identity as a mandalorian through many adventures across the galaxy as a bounty hunter, amassing quite the reputation. There's no Jaster Mereel to save her. The infighting in True Mandalorian Faction (Monstross) killed him off and the faction was left without a leader but also a very dead traitor.

Arla kills Palpatine.

Is it a good thing or a bad thing? She doesn't know but she's not sticking around long enough to find out.

...

Qui-gon Jinn dies in Melida/Daan and Jedi master Tahl was too late to save him. She took in his padawan and helped the Young faction brokering peace in their planet through the blood, sweat and tears, they pushed through and the Young finally had an adult they can trust.

They still didn't have back up, no. The Elders ransacked Tahl's ship and it's too risky to sneak out to it anyway but Tahl did her best to be the responsible adult in the middle of a heart breaking war between children and their own parents. She tried her best to shield Obi-wan and the Young but the horrors of war touches everyone.

She did her best. And when the day finally comes for the peace talks, it still went to shit. A young boy named Neild still dies and the Young, grieving and angry, blamed the jedi for his death and chased them off the planet.

Tahl still held onto her new charge. Try to help him even after they get back to the Temple. Try to heal together. Learn together.

Obi-wan was returned to Temple based learning in the meantime while he heals both physically and mentally. He hangs out with his friends. Reconnect with other jedi. Being a child he is meant to be.

Tahl continues to heal.

To work and train so that she can save more people than lose another. She meditates on each of the Young's death. She contacts the Temple Corps to discreetly send help to Melida/Daan. Even if they won't accept their help at first.

'Food is always welcome in that place.' She thought grimly as she remembers the gaunt faces of such young beings that were meant to be cherished but alas the galaxy is a cold hard place.

This strengthens her resolve to bring light to the ever darkening galaxy, even a flicker to those under darkness is a warmth uncompared.

It took quite a while to convince the council to let Tahl accept Kenobi as her padawan but with the state of the young boy they worry for an unhealthy attachment. In the end, they let her.

A woman who chose him and taught him the best that she can. They had a good partnership and slowly they both healed together.

One day they recieved a mission to protect Queen Amidala and in their mission they met a woman who is incredibly bright in the Force.

Her name was Shmi Skywalker and she is a slave.

Their current situation made freeing the woman difficult but Tahl did not give up. Somehow, someway, Tahl managed to get their ship parts and smuggled out a few bands of slaves along with them.

Tahl helped them remove their chips and offered them a ride with them in their newly repaired ship, courtesy of Shmi's handiwork, despite initial disagreements from the young queen's guards. The queen gave her word to help still, as thanks to their assistance also.

'It might be a tight squeeze though.', she apologized.

Not all of them accepted her offer. Some had family in the planet before they were stolen. Some were desperate to leave the place and accepted immediately.

One of them were Shmi Skywalker.

They continued as planned.

Maul arrived the scene, young and brimming with drive to prove hinself to his master only to fall to Jedi Master Tahl's lightsaber.

They continue as planned.

The political situation did not get better. The fought and fought and—

Gunray is still arrested and Palpatine was still elected Chancellor but there is a young woman in Coruscant that shines so bright that it threatens his darkness. Nevertheless. He will continue, unknowing of the force of nature said woman would bring.

Tahl gently brought Shmi and the others to the temple to help them. Jedi Master Shaak Ti was entrusted to assist them as they were slightly more comfortable with her than the other healers.

She felt Shmi's brightness shining through the dark fog of Coruscant and understood why Tahl trusted her with their check up.

But what to do, she is clearly too old to be a jedi. But never too old to recieve help from one or a few.

It is a Jedi's nature to help after all.

After checking their health for anything that needs immediate help, the Togruta talked them through the options they now had and how the Jedi can help them.

Some joined the temple to help with the corps, some accepted their assist of subsidy to travel to a refugee friendly planet that can take them in to start a new life.

Shmi Skywalker was given a choice. It was the first in her life that she was given such a multitude in choices.

She stayed at the temple long enough to heal, she helped around the temple with whatever skills she may offer. They offered her education she did not have the choice to have back when she was a slave.

She accepted.

She healed, she lived, she learned, she rages at the injustice and she— well, she has the freedom to choose now, doesn't she?

Shmi chose to help free other slaves and, with the help of Tahl, Shaak Ti and other jedi both Corpsman and Knights, managed to collect funds and materials to return to Tatooine.

To start a revolution.

It was but a droplet of water in the not so serene lake that is the galaxy yet the ripples form quite a large picture.

They all walk the their paths of Destiny. It changes nothing yet everything. But what is 'nothing' and what is 'everything' in this galaxy where everybody has to live?

Reverse Star Wars AU writing challenge: every time canon fridges a mother, fridge the father instead. Every time a woman dies for the sake of Manpain™️, kill off the dude instead.

(I know this gets particularly complicated with Obi-Wan, because his woman-who-died-in-my-arms count is in the double digits at this point, but I have faith fandom can find a way.)

The only rule is that the story cannot be about a man. It cannot be about man angst. It has to center the women.

[angelbarelywrites]

♡ slashers scenarios | you’re almost a victim… (part 2)

♡ fandoms; House of Wax, Scream (kinda), Hannibal/Silence of the Lambs, Dead by Daylight, slashers (general)

♡ characters; Bo Sinclair, Danny Johnson, Hannibal Lecter

♡ reader; gender neutral

♡ cw; mentions of violence and cannibalism, kidnapping, stalking, suggestive content

♡ notes; I’m kinda surprised this prompt won out for a part 2 but very happy lol, I had some fun ideas.

the whole gang is not here, just some kinda kinky guys again- I feel like this doesn’t work super well for every single slasher? only some of them are psychopaths AND perverts

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

Bo Sinclair

> bo was having a rough day

> your friends had been putting up one hell of a fight, killing the first four was a huge pain in ass

> so by the time there’s only two of you left, he hasn’t even gotten a proper look at you

> it’s not until you come back to the gas station, wide eyed and begging for help that he finally notices you

> god you’re cute- you can be last

> he drops the nice guy act and gets you to the chair- rough as always and threatening you the whole way

> but then he notices it’s all a lot easier than usual today

> he glances up and can’t help but grin

> your cheeks are bright red and your chest heaving- you like being restrained

> “i’ll be good- promise—“ you mumble before he can be a smart ass

> he gags you anyways, but he praises you as you open your mouth for him to stuff the rag it in

> he can hear you whimper as he does and he’s just itching to leave so he can come back

> he leans over, one hand planted between your legs to steady himself

> he can hear your breathing catch as he simply kisses your forehead, snickering as he leaves

> you were really something

> a pretty, obedient little something that would last way longer than a day if you kept it up

Danny Johnson

> he’s worried you saw the flash of his camera through your window that morning

> he’s normally so careful, he can’t believe he slipped up like that- honestly he’s surprised you didn’t call the cops

> you must have been too groggy, or maybe it wasn’t as dark as he thought it was at the time. maybe you noticed but didn’t put two and two together

> he needs to kill you soon anyways. he’s been watching for a while, and he’s wasting time

> he settles back into his usual spot where he can see perfectly into your bedroom

> he sees you frown just a tad as you pick up the phone call from an “unknown number” - but you still pick up

> “Hi there, doll .”

> he’s called you more than once, this “ghost voice” that’s been terrorizing you- and god is it a nice voice

> a nice voice that says vile things. some of them just violent, some…well some things you like too much

> you can see you make an expression he doesn’t expect. you bite your lip, cheeks pink

> he’s seen that look before…not for Ghostface, of course, but for Danny

> you were easy enough to befriend, and it just gave him more opportunities to keep tabs on you

> like most people he charms, you clearly have a crush on him, and that little lip bite is about the same face you make when he flirts

> maybe he’s just seeing things

> you couldn’t be that perfect.if you were he would have to keep you around

> he continues on and on, observing you carefully

> and you just keep getting more and more flustered, even when he’s threatening to choke you stupid

> “you know you’re so cute when you blush like that,”

> what you say next comes just about as close to scaring him as you can get

> “Thank you, Danny.”

Hannibal Lecter

> you weren’t quite as close to victimhood as one might assume

> but he was a fast killer once he had a mark set- you had to impress him more than a bit to be considered and then ruled out

> you start as his patient

> you’re a meek thing, easy to read and fragile

> you’re practically asking to become an entree

> if you taste as good as you look, you’d be his best dish yet

> it’s not hard to get you alone outside of an appointment

> you’re delighted when he invites you to a dinner party- you’ve heard great things about his little get togethers

> and he even lets you help him get ready, setting the tables

> the conversation become macabre as you discuss some recent murders that police suspected were committed by a cannibal

> that he committed for the sake of the dinner party, naturally

> he corners you before you can realize it - he likes playing cat and mouse

> you giggle nervously and look up at him

> he’s got a hand on the wall above you, and he notices your eyes linger on his toned forearms

> many patients and victims have crushes on him, it’s not surprising or a deterrent

> though it surprised him the gristly conversation wasn’t bothering you

> “yknow, it must be nice to know you’re safe from that serial killer in the neighborhood. If he is a cannibal, he’s most likely to chose someone more sedentary.”

> you leave him there, as if you hadn’t said something so delightfully offputting to find a vase for the table

> maybe he could do some further studying….

[teawithmadalice]

THE DRAGONS DAUGHTER

Prologue • Thranduil x daughter!OC

Summary: Thranduil lost his beloved daughter 500 years ago, on his search for the white gems of Lasgalen- his wife's final gift to him, he finds a young elf who reminds him of his lost daughter.

WORD COUNT: 2k

1 (YOU ARE HERE) • 2

The town square was filled with a hushed anticipation. The people, their faces marked by years of hardship and torment from the years of being terrorized by the fire breathing beast known by the name of Smaug, gathered together as the mayor, an elderly man with a deep, gravelly voice, stood before them.

"Good people of lake town, I stand before you today to speak of a matter both heavy and upsetting- one that has weighed on us all for what feels like generations although we know that is not so. Each season, as the winds begin to stir and change and the first frost that touches the earth melts away into spring dew drops, we face a choice, a duty. A sacrifice. This has taken the form of your hard earned gold, herds of sheep and piles of luxuries are sacrificed in an attempt to appease the beast"

He paused- his gaze sweeping over the gathered crowd, young and old all gathered.

"For almost 2 seasons now, we have lived under the shadow of the mountain. Above us, in the crags and cliffs, the great dragon Smaug watches over this land. I and the council have decided. One innocent soul, taken from among us, chosen by fate and tradition, to appease the dragon’s hunger."

"Regretfully, one newborn babe will be randomly selected by our council, and tonight, will be given as tribute to Smaug"

His voice grew softer now, tinged with sorrow- though it remained firm in its conviction.

"Now, I know that there are some among you who question this. Who feel in their hearts that such a practice is cruel, that the price is too steep. I see your faces, and I hear your whispers. I, too, have felt the weight of this duty, the pang of grief in offering a life so young. But we cannot allow this torment to continue plaguing our lovely town any longer."

"We must remember the fate of the dwarven kingdom of erebor and our sister-city of dale, those people died because they would not submit to the mighty dragon Smaug, we survived because we are lucky enough to have built our quaint town on water, and that the flame of Smaug cannot rage on for long before being distinguished into smoke and steam.

To the great people of Laketown, for our survival, we must do this."

•••••

It is written in the history books that the queen of the elven kingdom of mirkwood, wife of king thranduil and mother to the young elfling prince legolas died during the war on Angmar at the hands of orc barbarians.

The kingdom was said to have mourned the loss of a kind and benevolent queen that day, the realm fell silent, even the elves in neighbouring kingdoms mourned the beloved queen and sent commiserations to the widowed king and young elfling prince.

But what the history books leave out is that the queen of mirkwood, Calathiel, did not die alone. She was on the road to a neighbouring kingdom to seek refuge, with a newly born babe, a princess elfling who had fallen ill and needed treatment that the war-torn mirkwood could not provide.

The knowledge of the princess was unknown to those outside the royal family and those close to them, it was a great risk- a pregnant queen is a prime target for enemy attacks.

Calathiel and the small assortment of guards, (around four or five elves) that travelled with her were intercepted and slain only one day away from their destination- their bodies were left to the elements, ivy growing over the corpses in intricate patterns- a grotesque beauty.

it was three months before a group of mirkwood rangers recovered the bodies.

6 bodies.

Five corpses clothed in armour with weapons in hand and one body adorned in elven silk and silver jewelry, a woven crown laying on top of the silver locks of hair.

No young elfling babe was found among the fallen

•••••

"mama!" a young boy, with a mop of chocolate brown curls came crashing into his home in lake town.

"Aldren Forrinson where on earth have you been boy!" the screech of a woman with the same flurry of brown curls yelled back, putting her knitting needles down onto the stool beside her.

The small blanket was almost complete, a gift for her unborn babe she had carried in her womb for almost nine months, it would only be a few days until her waters broke and the bundle of joy would come wailing and kicking into the world.

"mama I found something! I was out walking in the woods- yes, I know you told me not to go too far from town- BUT! look..." the boy approached his mother, a bundle of soft blankets and wrappings of silk lay in his arms.

A soft gasp left the woman's lips as she peered down, a small pale face peered back with piercing blue eyes-

"give it here boy."

her nimble hands peered back at the many layers of cloth, short silver locks of hair had begun to sprout from the babes head, small pointed ears and a button nose- an elfling.

The elfling shivered, sweat beaded down her forehead, the warning signs of a fever- "listen to me here boy, go to master vere and tell him that the babe needs to be monitored, I can't keep an eye with my bump as big as it is now, " the woman leaned over to the pipe of finished knitted toys, clothes and blankets and took a soft woolen baby hat and placed it a top the babes head, covering the silver locks and pointed ears.

"there. Now off you go boy - shoo"

The sun was setting by the time the small boy got to the village doctor, bursting through the door and laying the babe on top of a table

"Master! babe- sick- fever" aldren panted, out of breath.

The old man stood from his chair, grey haired and wrinkled "oh, I was unaware your mother had given birth- where is she-?" the man turned, expecting to see the boy, but was met with mud trodden footprints made in haste. A sigh left his lips, turning to the babe and picking up the now sleeping infant.

WINTER, TA 2401, CLINIC LOG.

PATIENT: INFANT GIRL 'FORRISON'

DESCRIPTION: pale faced, smaller than the average babe, small scattered birthmark on the left shoulder , newly born.

The patient seems to be infected with a sweating sickness, from my evaluation there is not much that can be done, I have administered a sedative so the babe is not in pain- it is up to the patient to fight the sickness, let us pray she is strong

••••••••

A soft knock resounded on the Forrinson families front door.

The woman opened the door slightly, peeking through the crack- on the other side was an extremely recognisable face.

"Mayor," she spoke, opening the door fully "what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Mrs Forrinson, I am not sure if you've heard the announcement I made yesterday in the town centre."

A laugh left her lips at the thought "Of course I've heard, word travels fast and this is a small town after all sire! it's the most interesting thing that's happened here in a long while- it's awful that it has come to this, but I understand why you've decided to take this approach- I hope it works and that whomever the poor child is, that the sacrifice is worthwhile."

"I'm glad you think that Mrs Forrinson. Unfortunately, this is why I'm here talking to you today." his voice was soft, almost remorseful. An unsettling feeling wormed it's way into the pit of the woman's stomach.

"I ventured down to Master Veres clinic to look at the patients logs of all infants born in the last sixth months, in total there were 22"

A deep sigh left the man's lips. "I regret to inform you that your newborn girl has been chosen to do the honourable duty as a forfeit to Smaug- I understand how heartbreaking this must be but i-"

Her pulse was fast. Eyes darting around. She had not yet given birth, but her child was chosen to be sacrificed. Did he think the young elfling was hers? what should she do? her thoughts ran a mile a minute- the elfling was abandoned, has no family that would mourn her- surely she should be the one to be sacrificed, right?

"Mrs Forrinson... Hello Mrs Forrinson are you listening?" the deep voice of the older man snapped the woman out of her thoughts.

"Yes- i- apologies, this is a lot to take in..."

"I understand, your child is still at the clinic, yes? maybe you and your family should go and spend some time with her"

"yes... I-I think we will. Thank you sire."

•••••••

The trek to the caves mouth was difficult, the sharp rocks of the winding pathways cut into the bottom of the townsfolk feet through the soles of their boots- the wind was howling, bitter and cruel, whistling mockingly at them.

Beneath the large cocoon of blankets bundled in Mrs Forrinson's arms, the young elfling was slumbering, blissfully unaware of how each step taken was one step closer to a tragic fate of fire and ash.

The mountain began to shake, rumbling ferociously. "Smaug grows near, be careful!" one of the elders spoke, before he could continue a deep bellowing voice echoed from the opening of the cave

"WHAT HAVE YOU INSOLENT MORTALS BROUGHT ME NOW... A PITIFUL SOME OF GOLD PERHAPS? MAYBE SOME SHEEP TO SATIATE MY APPETITE?"

The blackening void of the cave was broken by two bright orange glowing eyes, emitting a deep growl as they slowly approached closer and closer to the small entourage of townsfolk.

"...NO... IT CANNOT BE TREASURE OR FOOD, I CANNOT SMELL THE GOLD ORE OR THE THUMPING HEARTS OF OBLIVIOUS SHEEP~ YOU'VE BOUGHT ME... SOMETHING... NEW."

"Smaug. We know you are a creature of wrath, a force of nature, and we know the land has trembled beneath your fury. The sky grows dark when you take to the air, and no beast or man dares to challenge your flame. But we are not your enemies—we seek only to survive, to live in peace with the land you claim as your own.

In our desperation, we have come to offer the one thing we hold most precious, the only way we know to ask for your mercy: a child of our own blood, a newborn babe born only a few moons ago. "

He motions to Mrs Forrinson, who cradles a newborn in her arms, unaware of the fact that the babe is not her own, but an abandoned elfling left on the edge of a nearby forest

"We offer this child, her life, in the hope that her innocence might sway your heart. Her cries are pure, her laughter untainted. She is the future of our village- the last hope we have to please you and, in turn, save our people from the shadow of death you cast upon us.

We do not ask for your forgiveness, only that you take this gift and spare us the destruction we fear. We understand the value of a life-of any life-and it is with the deepest sorrow that we present this offering, knowing full well the price it demands.

May you find in this small child something worthy of your grace.

We beg of you... let it be enough."

The older man motions to Mrs Forrinson, encouraging her to step forward and place the bundle of blankets and knitted wear at the mouth of the cave- this child was not her own, but a strong feeling of sorrow and grief ran throughout her body, solemn tears silently dripping down her face.

"I am so sorry little one." she whispered, pressing a soft kiss onto the young elves forehead, patting her hat covered head- one she kept on to conceal the pointed elven ears and the babes true nature.

"YOU MORTALS NEVER CEASE TO AMAZE ME. LEAVE. YOUR OFFERING IS ACCEPTED."

★★★★★

OMG the prologue is done! I'm scared I rushed the ending but oh well- not proofread!

like this? join my TAGLIST to be reminded of new episodes, blurbs and ficlets in the series <3

next chapter

[selinay-in-wonderland]

Carnival kiss/ Pt. 2 🤡🎠🎡🎪🎭🎢🤹‍♀️🪞

Art the clown x F! Reader

(Part one ) : 👇

——————————————————————————

Weeks melted into one another, each day blurring into the next as the memory of that night at the carnival clung to you like a second skin. The kiss you shared with Art—cold, electrifying, and utterly consuming—haunted your every thought, leaving you trapped in a web of dark desire and fear.

You found yourself spiraling into a suffocating obsession, drawn deeper into the abyss of your nightmares. Each night, you returned to the carnival in your dreams, standing alone amidst the dilapidated rides and twisted attractions, the scent of rust and decay thick in the air. The laughter of children echoed hollowly, transforming into a cacophony of screams that twisted your stomach into knots.

In the shadows, Art watched. His tall, menacing figure lurked just beyond the flickering lights, his sinister smile a permanent fixture, sharp teeth gleaming with an unsettling hunger. You felt his gaze upon you, like a physical weight pressing down, igniting a twisted thrill within your chest. The danger he embodied sent shivers down your spine, yet a dark part of you craved his attention, hungering for the chaos he represented.

Every night, the dream would escalate, growing more intense, more violent. He would close in on you, stalking like a predator, his steps silent but menacing. You would try to escape, heart racing, but the carnival had become a labyrinth, with twisting paths leading you back to him time and time again. The thrill of fear surged within you as you realized he was playing a game—his game—and you were both the prey and the pawn.

When you finally encountered him, it was a brutal collision of desire and dread. He would grab you, fingers digging into your skin with a mixture of desperation and urgency, pulling you close until you could feel his breath, cold and rancid, ghosting over your neck. You could taste the metal in the air, sharp and intoxicating, the very essence of his darkness washing over you like a tidal wave.

His grip was unyielding as he trapped you against the warped mirrors of the funhouse, your reflection distorted into a grotesque mockery of yourself. In that moment, you felt exhilarated and terrified. The thrill of having him so close sent a rush through your veins. He leaned in, his eyes glinting with a manic energy that made your heart race.

Without warning, Art crushed his lips against yours, the kiss an explosion of violence and fervor that left you breathless. There was no softness in his approach—only a primal need that consumed you both. The taste of blood—yours, his, or perhaps the remnants of his previous victims—filled your mouth as his teeth grazed your lips, the sharp pain igniting a fire deep within you.

As he pulled away, you felt a rush of heat and confusion, the reality of the moment crashing down around you. You were trembling, caught in the grip of something you could barely comprehend. The look in his eyes was possessive, hungry—an acknowledgment of the bond forged in violence and bloodshed. You were lost in a nightmare, but the thrill of it left you craving more.

Art was relentless, pushing you deeper into the chaos of the funhouse. Each twist and turn brought you closer to the darkness, and each brush of his fingers against your skin sent electric shocks through your body. You felt alive in ways you had never experienced, teetering on the edge of sanity as he led you into the heart of the carnival.

Suddenly, he spun you around, pinning you against a wall of mirrors, the cold surface pressing into your back. You could see his reflection—savage, untamed, and utterly captivating. The terror in your heart twisted into an unsettling desire, and you found yourself craving the danger he embodied. Your breath hitched as he leaned in again, pressing his body against yours, the heat of him contrasting sharply with the chill of the glass.

His gloved hands roamed your body, exploring every curve, every contour with a ravenous hunger that made your skin crawl and ignite with desire. You wanted to scream, to pull away, yet you couldn’t. The pleasure mixed with fear created a intoxicating cocktail, and as he pressed against you, the lines between horror and desire blurred until they were indistinguishable.

With a sudden movement, he gripped your throat, squeezing just enough to draw a gasp from your lips. Your eyes widened as you felt the pulse of panic, the primal instinct to escape igniting within you. But instead of fear, a rush of exhilaration surged through your body. You craved his touch, the dark thrill of danger mingling with an undeniable desire that left you breathless.

Art’s eyes sparkled with manic delight as he reveled in your reaction. The thrill of having you at his mercy sent a shiver of pleasure down his spine, a savage satisfaction coursing through him as he held you captive. He leaned closer, his face inches from yours, and you could feel the heat radiating off him—a wild, chaotic energy that threatened to consume you both.

Then, as quickly as it began, he released you, stepping back and watching as you gasped for breath. The look on his face was one of twisted amusement, as if he relished in the chaos he had created. You were trembling, caught in a whirlwind of emotions that left you vulnerable and exposed.

But Art wasn’t finished. He stepped closer again, a predator drawn to the scent of his prey. The intensity of his gaze sent a thrill coursing through your body, and before you could think, you reached out, your fingers brushing against his cheek. The moment your skin made contact with his, an electric shock jolted through you, igniting a deep yearning that you could no longer deny.

Art seized the moment, capturing your wrist in a vice-like grip as he pulled you against him. His mouth crashed onto yours once more, the kiss ferocious and consuming, leaving you breathless and dizzy. He explored you with a brutal passion, and you surrendered to the madness of it all, your heart racing in tune with the chaos surrounding you.

With each kiss, each brush of his body against yours, the boundaries of your own sanity began to blur. The dark romance blossomed in the depths of your soul, and you found yourself drawn deeper into the world of nightmares he had created. The thrill of the unknown, the ecstasy of surrendering to the monster, became your reality.

But just as you thought you were lost forever, the atmosphere shifted, the darkness closing in around you like a vice. A cold sweat broke out on your skin, and panic surged within you. You wanted to break free from this twisted embrace, yet a part of you clung to him, to the chaos he embodied.

Suddenly, the carnival began to distort around you, the vibrant colors fading to gray. The laughter turned to whispers, haunting echoes that clawed at your mind. You felt the ground shift beneath you, the funhouse warping into an endless void, pulling you deeper into the abyss.

“No!” you screamed, the sound tearing from your throat as terror washed over you. “Let me go!”

But Art’s grip tightened around you, and you could feel the weight of his presence, the intoxicating pull of his darkness suffocating you. Just as the last vestiges of light began to flicker out, the world exploded in a blinding flash of white.

You jolted awake, gasping for breath as your heart pounded in your chest. Your room was dark and silent, the shadows creeping in from the corners like a living entity. Sweat clung to your skin, and you could still feel the lingering sensation of his touch, the ghost of his kiss lingering on your lips.

The vivid images of the carnival faded slowly, but the feeling of danger remained. You shot upright, heart racing, mind reeling from the intensity of the dream. Was it just a nightmare, or was it a warning?

As you sat in the stillness of your room, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Art was still out there, watching, waiting for the right moment to invade your reality. You could almost hear his laughter echoing in your mind, the memory of his icy gaze sending chills down your spine.

And as the shadows danced across the walls, you realized that no matter how far you ran, no matter how hard you tried to forget, the darkness had a way of creeping back in. Art the Clown had become a part of you, his obsession entwined with your very soul. You were forever marked by that kiss—a mirror reflecting the twisted desires that lay just beneath the surface.

You lay back down, breathing heavily, the line between reality and nightmare blurred. Deep down, you knew it wasn’t over; this was just the beginning. As sleep threatened to claim you once more, a smile crept onto your lips, fueled by the thrill of fear and an undeniable attraction to the darkness that had claimed your heart.

In the depths of your mind, you wondered: Would you dare to dream of him again

[merlucide]

LATE NIGHT SNACK RUNS WITH SHIDOU

Notes: lmao I was bored so I wrote this Ig- trying to make myself like writing again 💀

wc: 750

warnings: shidou, I wrote this tired so idk how it is

Your boyfriend is 'special,' you could say. He's got a big personality and an even bigger ego. He's prone to getting into fights and has zero shame about it. But, you love him nonetheless. You are the most important person in his life, and he makes sure you damn well know it.

But right now, you honestly feel like throttling him. It's 3 AM, and he's spammed your phone with calls more times than you can count. You responded with a kind, "Fuck off, I'm sleeping," and turned on DND. You managed to slip back into sleep, if only for a brief moment.

Your rest is interrupted again, this time by the uncomfortable sensation of being watched. Groggily, you blink your eyes open to find a dark figure towering over you.

You let out a shriek and start flailing at the figure.

"Ow, stop—it's me! Stop—IT'S ME!!" a familiar voice urgently whispers. You squint in the darkness, heart hammering. You soon realize the so-called intruder is actually your stupid boyfriend, Ryusei.

"WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?! YOU- WHAT- WHY?? HOW DID YOU EVEN GET IN HERE???" you hiss, smacking his arm as he scoffs.

"uh- I called you like a gazillion times, and I threw rocks at your window, but you didn't wake up" Ryusei explains nonchalantly, glancing from the window back to you with a smirk beginning to form. "You know, you really should lock your window, babe. Someone could sneak in."

You smack his arm again, harder this time, receiving a small 'ouch' from him.

"What do you want, Ryusei?" you grumble, massaging your temples.

He grins, grabbing your shoulders. "Well, I was bored, so I thought we should totally hit up 7-11, yeah?"

With a deep sigh, you accepted defeat. "Fine. I'll go with you. But God so help me, if you pull another stunt like this again, I will break up with your insufferable ass- you hear me?"

His grin widens, and he starts climbing out the window. "Yes, ma'am," he replies cheerfully.

You grab a hoodie and peek out of your room to make sure no one was awakened by your earlier scream of terror.

Stepping out the window, you slide down to the ground below. Ryusei offers his hand, which you take, and together you start jogging down the street.

The night air is chilly but refreshing, not cold. The streets are deserted, as expected at 3 AM. Ryusei is dressed down in sweats and an oversized hoodie, his hair flatter without his usual styling, and his face bare without the iconic eyeliner. Under the yellow hue of the streetlights, his skin seems to glisten. Sometimes you think, he could have been a model in another life.

You and Ryusei chat aimlessly and stumble over each other's feet as you walk. Arriving at the 7-11, you grab snacks that you both know are unhealthy. You both get Slurpees and head to the checkout.

You both share your snacks, and show each other your colored tongues. 

Ryusei takes a sip of his drink and looks over at you. "Y’know, we should do this more often," he suggests.

You playfully roll your eyes. "Oh yeah? Why?"

Ryusei grins, looking around at the empty streets. "Because, let's be honest, when else are we going to run around like this without anyone else in our way? It’s like the world’s ours for the taking."

You laugh, shaking your head at his straightforward reasoning. "Only Shidou Ryusei would think a run to 7-11 at 3 AM is a grand adventure" you respond, amused by his enthusiasm.

He snorts, slinging the 7-11 bag kver his shoulders. "Admit it, you’re kinda loving the freedom too," he says, nudging you gently with his elbow.

You sigh but can't hide your smile. "Maybe a bit. But let’s aim for the daylight hours next time, okay?"

"Can’t promise that," he shoots back with a mischievous smirk.

As you finish up your late night snack run and head back and the first hints of dawn start to light the sky.

You climb up to the window, you wave your boyfriend goodnight as he sends you kisses. You returned them as he runs off into the street. you both crawl back into bed, content and a bit exhausted.

You never know what to expect with Ryusei, but that what’s makes being with him fun right?

I SWEAR I WILL DO THE REQS OKAY??

made April 8th 2024

[dusterbishop]

you believe me like a god (i'll destroy you like i am)

summary. || three timelines, you have watched remy lebeau die. you didn't believe you would earn a fourth chance to save him until you find a variant with no memory of his past, lost in a void of existence.

pairing. || gambit x f!reader (past relationship with current enemies-to-lovers)

count. || 3.8k

notes. || posted on ao3 here. warning for character death and violence. once again, i'm so grateful for the likes and kind words! it means a lot to me! this chapter is long, but the next one is going to be heavy and i needed to get it all out here.

part one. || part two. || part three.

Come’on, chér, just hold on.

Playing the odds?

Non, I’m bettin’ all on you.

Gambit talks for a long, long time. He tells you about Cassandra Nova, and the Resistance's intent to cripple her center of operations. He tells you about the other mutants he allied himself with. He tells you about the climate of the Void, which is dry and barren and desolate. He tells you about his liquor collection, even as he laments how he won’t be able to indulge in it for a while.

This version of him is dead-set on a suicide mission, you quickly realize. Nova and her power sounds far beyond the scope of Gambit’s abilities, and you doubt his allies could overtake her, either. They are all hopelessly outmatched.

Then again, they are also decaying in the Void. Void is a good name for it; the earth is desolate and menacing as the pair of you travel. Your powers flicker at the edge of your vision in a blurry mirage of recollection, like a film played backwards. You can taste the metallic tinge of blood in the back of your throat. Your body still simmers with feverish fatigue, even though you are five days deep into this timeline. You haven’t been using your abilities beyond necessity, but each time you wonder what would happen if your intended time-object doesn’t appear at the command.

C’mon, Wildcard, don’ get skittish on me now.

Just deal me in, Cajun.

They are all outmatched on their own. You stare at the broad expanse of Gambit’s back as you walk, taking in the way he walks over the uneven terrain, the idle twirl of his bo staff slung lax in his hand. The travel has worn him down at the edges; his hair is mussed and dirt-streaked, and his coat is weighted and torn at the hem. Five days of trekking through the daylight and camping through the night has taken a toll on his body, but he still hums to himself as you both walk.

You know this song. It’s the one Tante Mattie would sing to him when he was young and couldn’t sleep. Or at least, that’s what your Remy told you. Perhaps this version of Remy LeBeau found it through another source. You can’t imagine the man in front of you as a little boy needing comfort.

No. That isn’t quite true. You have seen photos of a younger Remy while visiting New Orleans, much to his dramatic announcements of utter embarrassment, and you never forgot just how small he seemed. How unfair that his life was wrought with pain and fear, even as that little boy, just for the color of his eyes. Abandoned by one family only to be raised in crime with another.

You know what your Remy went through. You just can’t bear to think about what this one has suffered with. Not now. Maybe not ever considering the terror Nova has been spreading across the Void.

“Okay,” you say suddenly. It’s nearly nightfall. You should find a place to settle for the night, then scrounge up enough from your rations to feed his burning metabolism and soothe the disquiet ache in your stomach. Despite the fever, you should eat something of substance even if the thought alone makes you feel nauseous.

“Go’on, chér,” Gambit says. He’s eyeing the horizon with a calculating look, no doubt thinking the very same thing you are. You don’t know how far the makeshift headquarters are for the rebel cause, but you can figure it’s still some ways off by the frown on his face. Just how far did he go wandering alone? You don’t allow yourself to wonder why he seemed to be looking for you, either. That would lead to more questions than your mind could handle.

“You want me to fight Nova,” you say. That catches his attention. He jolts as if you charged him with his own kinetic wave, his pitch-dark eyes sliding to lock on yours. He looks like he’s ready to argue, or maybe to sweet-talk, so you add, “I’ll do it. Fight her.”

“Suicide, chér?” His mouth is twisted unhappily. “Nobody tell you to do that.”

“Didn’t need you to, Cajun,” you shoot back. “No other reason for you to go hunting across the Void for me.”

“Mebbe,” he drawls out, his smile temptingly coy, “Gambit like what he sees.”

You don’t take the bait. “I can kill her, but where does that leave you? All of you?”

His smile grows just a little brighter at the misstep. It takes every nerve in your body to resist the urge to sigh in exasperation. You don’t have to remind him you care about his wellbeing. This Gambit isn’t yours to protect.

“Don’ worry ‘bout us, chér,” he says, nearly a purr. It sends a thrill down to the base of your spine. “We talk it out, eh? Our hand t’deal.”

“With a suicide mission?” Your laugh is strained. “You really know how to raise the bet, Cajun.”

“Playing de odds,” he agrees. In the half-light of the sinking sun on the horizon, his profile is cast in shadows, and yet you can see the faintest twitch in his mouth. Almost a frown. Then he turns his face away from you entirely, hiding back behind the facade of his relaxed shoulders. “We gonna get out dis place.”

He sounds so sure that you say nothing, taking in the moment of staring at the setting sun. It would be much easier to leave entirely, even with the heaviness of your limbs from the fever. Who knows how much time you have left in this place? Something about the timeline here has you untethered from reality. You keep swallowing back the taste of blood.

Part of you almost tells Gambit, right then, that you don’t think you have time to talk about plans. You can’t just wait for the right opportunity to land in your lap like a wounded bird.

But you don’t. The two of you quietly settle down around a fire and divide your meager rations. It’s a strange collection of his preferences with the oddity of your Void self’s miscellaneous tastes. It’s an unspoken agreement to swap the night watch while the other is asleep. Gambit takes the first watch. You pretend to sleep curled next to the heat of the fire, your mind flashing through broken images of different times, like watching broken sunlight filter in from under the surface of the ocean.

Remy used to think it odd that you didn’t dream. You would joke to him that you had enough of dreaming when you found him. Still, some part of you feels a hollow curiosity towards the thought of dreaming. How could your mind conjure images of desires only for you to wake up without them? There was never a time that you could remember where you didn’t just wave your hand and hold the world in your palm.

Yet the memories that flicker across your mind from the darkness behind your closed eyelids are strangely nostalgic. Thwarting a burglary attempt as your mutant debut, celebrating Jubilee’s birthday at the mansion, visiting New Orleans for the first time as a LeBeau. Waking up to Remy’s arm slung over your waist as if he was trying to keep you secured in this timeline, even as your mind traveled right in plain sight, gone beyond his reach.

It rends a heart-wrenching ache in your chest. You have to fight to keep your breathing steady. The memories are still there, rushing past you quickly enough to make you dizzy.

Marrying Remy and nearly missing on your cue to kiss because you were staring up at his eyes. Desperately reaching out to him as your power stuttered, nearly sending you tumbling over the edge of the roof. Discreet shuffling around in bed to avoid waking the cats piled around you two, with Remy sleepily pressing a kiss to your temple. Losing days at a time, flickering in and out of your life like a specter, only to watch him grow more and more desolate in the wake of your disappearances.

Growing sicker for all the time-summoning your body forced you through. Reaching out for Remy’s hand to kiss it. Laughing at the way Remy pulled you up out of your chair to waltz in the kitchen in the middle of the night, despite him supporting most of your weight. Staring at the abandoned costume hanging in your closet, no longer your size due to the weight loss, knowing you could not wear it again in this lifetime. Accepting that, to be with Remy.

Accepting it all, just to be with Remy. Playing the odds with your own sort of suicide mission, just to keep a life with him. To earn your title with the X-Men and get dispatched on missions with them again. To be able to cuddle with the cats without scaring them with a violent waking. To go to sleep next to your husband with the knowledge you could see the same version of him in the morning.

Deal me in, LeBeau.

Eyes, mon cuore.

Warmth burns the back of your eyes. You open them slowly to stare at the blur of the fire crackling quietly in front of you. You can taste the fresh warmth of blood coating your tongue and sticking to the back of your front teeth. There’s something small and rectangular in your hand, but you don’t shift out of your curled up position to see what it is. You hadn’t intended on bringing something out of the timeline.

How strange, to dream and wake with nothing to show for it?

“C’est tout un sucre,” Gambit says softly. You flinch at the sound of his voice. You had nearly forgotten that he was there. “Not gon’ go ahead an’ ask what’s got you so scared.”

It takes effort to swallow back the swelling emotion in your throat. “I can take watch.”

“I s’pose you jus’ want some quiet, eh?” There’s the whispering shuffle of fabric, and then Gambit is settling down to lay next to you, leaving a near-imperceptible gap between you. In another life, you could reach out and touch him. Just not this one.

“Not really,” you sigh. He lets that lie for a heartbeat, letting you collect the raging tempest of thoughts scrambling your head. It would be awfully convenient if a wandering pack of mutants tried to attack you, or if Nova herself descended from the sky to kill you. Anything to spare you from the grave you were preparing to dig yourself into.

“Gambit,” you start, still staring resolutely ahead at the flickering flames, “I told you what happens to me.”

“Reset,” he muses. You can hear the gentle rustle of fabric, then the soft flicker of shuffling cards as he takes them from one hand to the other. He thinks best when he’s in control, and so he has his cards poised for action. You don’t look at him, but you’re not entirely sure if it’s for the sake of your control, or for his.

“What I said,” you agree. “It’s not a suicide mission if I go after Nova.”

“No,” he says.

“Even if she destroys the Void version of my body, I keep traveling,” you continue. “I can — ”

“No,” he repeats. The edge in his tone makes you pause, but it’s the hand that grips yours that makes you turn to stare at him. He isn’t wearing his gloves, and the warmth of his skin against yours makes the heat of the fire feel insignificant. It’s his eyes, though, that make your lungs seize up. All night-black pupils with hardly the rings of red. His eyes are his only tell that he’s terrified out of his mind.

You blink back at him, stunned. 

“Don’ be a fool,” he finally says. Slowly, reluctantly, he takes his hand from yours. The cold air in the wake of his touch burns just as much as uncontrolled wildfire. “We all gon’ get out dis place. Nobody dyin’.”

“I can’t die,” you shoot back. “Don’t you understand? I will always move on to another life. None of this matters to me! Not the Void, or Paris, or fucking New Orleans! If I go and blow up Nova, then I can move on and live my life in another timeline without dealing with any of this.”

“Movin’ on,” Gambit notes. He’s smiling, but there’s an edge to the curve of his mouth. “Dat’s jus’ called runnin’ away.”

“And Gambit never folds, is that it?” You hold up your other hand, the one with the playing card, and toss it to him. It flutters in the breeze before resting on his chest. He narrows his eyes at you, but his curiosity wins as it always does. He was always too easy to bait. A gambler never gives up the promise of a winning prize.

You don’t have to look to know what the card is. If you were dreaming of Remy, it only makes sense that you dreamed of his favored card. Gambit studies the Queen of Hearts with an inscrutable gaze. It’s not the version that Remy gave you; that one was likely consumed in the same blast that destroyed your body. This one is unwrinkled and vibrantly colored. Brand new.

“You don’ know, do you?” Gambit says. The flatness of his tone makes you pause, though you can’t bring yourself to look at the expression on his face. Your gaze locks onto the card he’s holding so delicately, as if he’s holding onto your heart rather than a piece of pressed painted cardboard.

“You kno’ me, hein?” He turns his head to look at you, and you have to force yourself to release the breath you’ve been holding in a slow, controlled sigh. Still, you feel stripped raw by his gaze. You wrap your arms around yourself to avoid the impulse to summon a staff and fend him off from his next words: “You recognize me.”

“Seen a lot of you lately,” you say. It’s meant to be dismissive and unaffected, but even you can hear the hitch in your breath when he shuffles an inch closer, eyes burning black into yours.

“You and Gambit meet before,” he half-laughs, not happily.

“Many times.”

“Then you know Gambit’s never forgotten a beautiful woman.”

Like that, he’s up and crouched above you, his hands clasped tightly to your upper arms. You’ve forgotten how quick he can be when he’s lost in the lure of a gamble. His warmth leeches through the thin fabric of your coat, time-stolen to match the beige wasteland around you and offer some hope of camouflage. It’s nothing like the armored fabric woven into his, and his touch reminds you of just how vulnerable you truly are right now.

You’ve met a few Gambits that have tried to actively kill you, before. One had plunged a sharpened edge of his staff right into your chest, aiming with precise calculation to slip it straight through the soft skin between your ribs. Another had taken you down as collateral in pursuit of more satisfying prey, stepping around your fallen body as he continued his game. And, of course there had been Remy, too.

This Gambit doesn’t tighten his grip, though you can feel the tension humming like hornets beneath his hands, kinetic energy pulsing in anticipation.

“Gambit,” you warn him. You don’t try to pull away. You don’t even reach for the veil of time that whirs at the edges of your vision, even if it would be almost easy to summon some method of distraction and escape this sudden intervention.

“He ain’t forget,” Remy repeats. He squeezes you, just once, eyes darting over your expression with intent tenacity. “Listen to me, eh? I promised you, chér. Even if you don’ remember it, I mean it. We gonna get out dis place together.”

Something metallic tastes spoiled in the back of your throat. You blink at him, struck suddenly by the realization that you have been hiding in plain sight. The Void must be more of a well-fitting title for this place than you initially assumed, as it’s given you nothing but barren territory to let your power meander. It gives you space to let the timelines mingle in a blurry mirage of recollection at the edges of your vision, like a film played in rapid reverse.

You thought you had been desensitized to meeting Gambits, and perhaps you were right. You couldn’t even recognize Remy LeBeau until he was right in front of you. How else would you explain finding your Remy here, and not recognizing him sooner?

One of his hands flickers, almost too quick to follow, and the cuff of his sleeve unravels to reveal a card. It’s not one of the suit of aces.

It’s your Queen of Hearts.

“Is dis your card?” His words are meant to be wry, but there’s a catch in his voice where his breath stutters, so soft you might miss it if you weren’t struck senseless at the sight. The edges of the card are singed black, no doubt remainders of the kinetic energy, but the crease down the middle is undoubtedly from your nervous fidgeting during missions with the X-Men. You kept it in your pocket as a good luck charm only to fiddle with it during downtime. Folding it over and over, running your thumb over the lines to memorize every feeling.

You can’t speak. It feels like being dragged into a violent undertow, the waves of memories flickering at the edges of your vision threatening to drown you. You suck in a shuddering breath, nearly a cry, and finally succumb to the urge to reach out and touch the curve of his jaw. He’s warm and familiar beneath your touch.

“‘M all in for you, mon coeur,” he says, and then he leans in and kisses you.

Warmth burns the back of your eyes, the telltale harbinger of the tears that start trickling down your cheeks in a slow caress. He’s kissing you with reckless abandon, and you open up under his touch, unwinding your arms from your sides to reach up and clutch at the lapels of his coat. One of his hands wraps around your waist, tugging you impossibly closer, the other moving up to cup your salt-streaked cheek. You can hardly feel the rough pad of his thumb wiping away the tears beyond the whir of power buzzing in the back of your throat.

You have to pull back, breathless, though Remy is holding you tight from retreating too far.

“I’m the kinda man that don’t leave,” he tells you. His voice is just as hoarse as you feel. “I don’ care if it hurts, mon coeur. Dis place can’t have you. We gonna get out.”

“I care, you idiot.” You press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, pulling back before he can turn his head to steal a proper one. He makes a soft noise of indignation, but you can’t let him think that any more sacrifice will fix the gaping wound festering between you two. “I don’t know how we can fix what’s broken between us, Remy. I’m terrified that you’re going to end up dead trying to fix it yourself.”

“Non,” he shakes his head, though he can’t hide the way his body tenses up beneath you. “Since when you talk that way, mon coeur? Gambit has a plan.”

“He knows the odds, is that it?” You tug him down to kiss him again, and he goes willingly to your silent command, his mouth warm against yours. You can taste the salt from your tears, only to pull back and see the shine in his eyes, too. How long had it been since you two were separated for good? You don’t remember. You have lived far too long outside of this time to remember when. You hope that Remy, however he ended up in the Void, doesn’t remember either.

You can’t bear the thought of him waiting to see if you would return, following in the wake of this Void version of your face. Counting the days, over and over, just to see a stranger wearing your body every time the sun rose.

“In this, he do,” Remy agreed. There’s a furrow in his brow, and you marvel at the way you reach up and smooth a thumb over the wrinkle, only for him to scrunch his nose at you in familiar distaste. “I taste blood, mon coeur. You hurt?”

Even as he asks, his hand runs down your side, checking for hidden injury. The memories at the edge of your vision flicker to a time where he had done the same thing after a particularly rough mission sent you crashing into a wall. You had cracked two ribs and spent some downtime on mandatory bedrest while he fussed over your every movement and tried to keep the cats from sleeping on your chest.

You don’t realize how long it’s been since you’ve seen him fuss over you, but the back of your eyes start to burn again. “I’m okay, Cajun. Just adjusting to the timeline.”

He lets you kiss him again, this time keeping your mouth closed to hide the taste of your blood, but he’s still frowning when you break apart. “Six days.��

You’ve never had to spend so long adjusting. You didn’t think Gambit would notice your lack of time-summoning, but then again, you hadn’t realized Remy was silently cataloging every action that confirmed your identity. In some instances, you would only spend a minute or two in a timeline. Six days counts as practically permanent without a reset.

God, how the hell had you not noticed him watching you? Of all the Gambits for you to return to, it had to be him. And out of all the versions of you that cross-trek the known universes, he had to get the one that is too goddamn tired of losing him. He had to get the version of you that was too tired to pretend that this life was worth wrestling with every moment of the day.

No wonder he broke his silent watch to admit the truth to you. Even if it broke his heart to watch you leave the timeline, he couldn’t sit there and listen to you act willing to destroy yourself again.

Which is why you can’t tell him you’re dying, anyway. Time doesn’t exist in the same capacity in the Void. The memories overlapping your vision are nothing more than ghostly shrouds of a past life. However your power works, it doesn’t have the same support in this place. Staying here will kill you.

“Listen,” you tell Remy. His body burns hot above you, a livewire of kinetic warmth. Alive and real. Your Remy, alive. “I promise we’ll get out of here, okay?”

I promise I will save you, you think as he kisses you, his hands cupping your face as if you are something precious to protect. No matter what.

[definitelynotafurinasimp]

Clorinde with a reader that’s scared of spiders

characters: Clorinde x gn!reader

warnings: none

a/n: Listened to Bo Burnham's song "Spider" and found it highly reletable. So I thought since I'm currently in a bit of a writing block I might as well use the inspiration to try and write smth short for Clorinde.

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Clorinde

Both of you had drastically changed since the first time the two of you met, and yet, there were still many things about you that remained the same, no matter how little they seemed to make sense or how… admittedly silly they were. So when she saw you tense up whenever you saw a spider, no matter the size, in your home, Clorinde couldn’t help but smile.

No matter how formidable of a foe you had bested in the past and how even things that once put you in terror now seemed to have relatively little effect on you, your arachnophobia never seemed to grow any dimmer, your constant mutters of “at least it’s not a spider” whenever facing one of your other fears doing a great job at weakening them while at the same time feeding your biggest weakness.

“It’s just a spider in the corner, that’s absolutely normal. I’m not scared of spiders or anything, that would be silly. I fought mitachurls and sentient water bubbles, a small spider is nothing compared to that”, your shaky voice rang out loud enough for Clorinde to hear you from the next room over, almost instinctively causing her to stand up from her chair and begin making her way over. Whether it was to help you out or simply to witness the spectacle? Even she couldn’t tell.

When she got to the room however and you quickly threw her a glance before greeting her and shifting your attention back onto the –now visibly empty– corner, the sanity you barely managed to hold onto began to slip.

“Oh, it’s gone. That’s that, I guess”, Clorinde absentmindedly stated before starting to turn around, only to halt in her tracks the moment you pulled out your gun and started to point it at the spot the spider was last seen, frantically starting to search for it behind every piece of furniture you had. .

“Where did he g- where the f- WHERE ARE YOU!” 

As Clorinde carefully watched your… unique way of facing your biggest fear, she prepared herself to step in and stop you from blowing a golf ball sized hole into your walls or furniture, her eyes fixating on your index finger to make sure it didn't get anywhere near the trigger. Of course nothing stopped her from stopping you then and there, a simple word from her probably being enough to get you to calm down, and yet, Clorinde caught herself wanting to spectate the scene for just a bit longer.

“SHOW YOURSELF! YOU THINK I’M AFRAID OF YOU? YOU THINK I’M AFRAID-"

[saelterlude]

Happy first anniversary to the Link Click Musical!! To celebrate, here is a list of all the specials official recordings that they have given us!

Kay so starting with

Chinese Musical Promo Special Livestream: (I forgot the name of the event hehe)

Faith of Friendship by Wang Minhui and Cai Qi

Words Can't Convey My Love by Shu Rongbo and Wu Yihan (they play these two songs straight, but no worries its not the case for the other proper specials held by encore musical)

100th Performances Countdown Specials: (Yes, this week was a blessing)

Words Cant Convey My Love with LG-CXS swap (roles not character if that makes sense) by WMH, Bai Zhuoming and Wu Hanglu (dont you love seeing wmh cocky confidence slowly and surely crumbles lol, bzm got the rights to get mad at him in the end)

Words Cant Convey My Love with LG->CXS->the girl and QL-> LG by Du Guangyi, Wang Yifei, and Qian Anqi (lets be real wyf took us all by surprise with that entrance and the oh~. its also the source of shy lg in cxs jacket. dont forget the failed streamer disaster lmao)

Faith of Friendship with a push up bet for every ball missed by Teng Chunpeng and DGY (aksnsjks the stupid star formation is great, and the multiple failed shots plss. i love their goofy asses so much)

Forget About It with LG->CXS->QL->LG by WYH, Ding Xingchen and Deng Xialin (i love dxc's twin sister, shes pretty shes great. wyh being a hyper orange cat on stage is also great, dont forget the meme that came from it)

Forget About It with various dialects by Guo Hongxu, Ji Xiaokun and Cai Lu (its the closest thing we've got to how the actual performance goes! special mention go cl needing to read the lyrics off her phone)

As The Saying Goes with CXS as Chen Xiao and everyone else as CX's mom by CQ WMH, DXL, Zhang Jiahao and Zhu Jiayan (chickenchickenchicken, peak comedy, i love wmh going all asian mom lmaooo, yess scold cq into a chokehold!)

Valentine Special:

Words Cant Convey My Love with LG->the girl QL->LG and CXS as CX by DGY, TCP and WHL (dgy wjth the high pitched voice, the almost kiss, the fckin succulent, the fake retching, its perfect)

200th Performances Special:

Words Cant Convey My Love with CXS->Liu Meng, LG taking the confessing role and QL->LG by WMH, GHX and DXL (i love how cheeky ghx looks, and how everyone burst out laughing when he enters. ghx is just terrorizing wmh this whole performance)

300th Performances Special:

Trump Card with CXS and LG hanging by TCP, DGY, WHL, ZJY and Zhou Bo (dgy core strength took me by surprise, its a mess)

1 Year Anniversary Special:

This 15 minutes video contains: (watch me struggle to describe this loveable mess here)

Words Can't Convey My Love by ZJH, Guo Zheyan, and DXL with mahjong cameos (shiguang is in the walls. i promise, it makes sense, its chaos, i love it) by GHX, BZM, ZHB, YHL

Faith of Friendship (doubled! theres too many of them!! and zhb is so tiny wtf. none of them can shoot, wheres basketball god when you need him) by GHX, BZM, ZHB, YHL

Back to The Past by CQ and WMH with WMH belting it whilst a group of raincoat wearing menaces (GHX, ZHB, YHL, CQ) does some cult ritual nonsense. (i am not joking, wmh is singing this angsty song on the verge of tears and getting bullied)

Also, Dive Back in Time with everyone!! (its very cramped lmao)

Bonus! If you prefer it to Weibo, here is a YouTube playlist for the specials posted by niebo! Happy 1st anniversary Link Click Musical! I know I haven't keep up with the clip list but damn I gotta do something.

[slashingdisneypasta]

Imagine hiding behind your usual attacker because another one, a worse threat, is after you and your villain won't let that happen. Because you are theirs.

Hiding behind Freddy's back hoping he has something clever up his sleeve, because he always has something clever up his sleeve, it's usually awful but right now you're counting on it.

You have a knife in your hand and part of you is ready to jam it between his shoulder blades as soon as the other one (Freddy, as well, but not Freddy- darker, uglier, something inconceivable about him... ) is not an issue anymore but another part of you is holding onto it to protect him with.

When he glances back at you with a devious smirk and an evil glint in his eye that you're all too familiar with and asks you if you trust him- you even say you do. You're even genuine.

Otis tells you to go to the other room and you do as you're told for once. If he had told you to lay down and play dead on your stomach, you would have done it. This is not a time to argue with him- you know he doesn't want anyone else killing you but him, and right now Foxy is in a terrifying mood where he will, just to spite his brother. You were already slashed with a knife Foxy threw at you, the wound deep through your arm and soaking your shirt with blood so it sticks to your skin. When Otis comes into the room later, he has alcohol, a needle and string.

Against your much better judgement, because you're shaken and Otis is familiar, and right now he has no malice in his eyes, you let him take that needle to your skin and stitch you up. You even take a drink with him afterwards, like old friends.

You know very well that the man in the Ghostface costume is the same one that's been harassing you, chasing you, attacking you for the past week- and the fact that he's slipped out of a dark corner in your home just now when you thought you were alone, should be terrifying.

But when they quickly and efficiently slice the neck of a burglar who was about to grab you, you take the moment to breath out a sigh of relief, regroup, swallow down the terror you just felt (So much more than you ever feel recieving a call from Ghostface)... instead of run. He doesn't move to hurt you at all. Just stands there, watching you.

Something about it is comforting.

When a 'visitor' to Ambrose takes a liking to you and tries to take something that you were not offering, you find yourself wishing Bo was there. You actually call for him, cry out for him in a very desperate moment when you need someone- and somehow he's there just in time. How? He was probably stalking you, watching you... but you don't care. You're thankful he was. He wrenches the man off of you and you feel a swell of warmth (Gratefulness? Relief? ... Pleasure?) watching him slam the guy against a wall.

When he growls out that you're his, something you certainly are not and shouldn't even consider going along with, something that isn't even necessary because he's going to kill the guy anyway, something unhealthy and terrible and gross- you don't know why but your mind goes absolutely blank and you breath out... yes.

[niilue]

Can you make Vash beg to have his face sat on. Mans dream is to be a seat and no one can tell me other wise. He’s been so busy lately and feels like it’s been so long since he’s touched you properly… he’s so cute when he’s whiny istg he’s my weakness 😭

ෆ ִ ׁ sub vash stampede

cw: face sit, breathe play, gender neutral (maybe more of female), whinny vash, needy boy

vash has this kink where he wants you to sit on his face and smother him with your beautiful ass, but he'd definitely be too embarrassed to ask you to do that. he's so shy and so sweet that maybe you'd think he's a perverted weirdo.

but he can't help it, it's just the thought of you on top of him, riding his face and him licking and sucking you, barely able to breathe properly, makes him wet his underwear. and it's something that's happening to him right now. he has to slyly place his hand on his aching erection.

-nnmg ugh…- a whimper escapes from the blond's mouth just by pressing his palm on his sex.

you looked at him with a raised eyebrow, the blue-eyed one blushed to the core and started to babble.

-vash, honey… tell me what you need," you said kneeling down in front of him, taking his hands, noticing his bulge. smile to yourself.

the blond put on an expression of astonishment and terror, opened his mouth and laughed nervously. he looked damn adorable. his eyes were a little watery, his nose and his chubby cheeks were red as a tomato. -I love you… uh, I love you name.

you let out a little smile and licked your lips and then moderated them, god it was so cute. you moved closer and left a slow and quick kiss on his juicy pink lips that were now trembling.

-i know, now tell me vash, what do you need from me," you whispered into his face, both breaths mingling and the breaths becoming more erratic.

vash closed his eyes and placed his head on your chest as if giving up, squeezed your hands and murmured. -name, I need you to sit on my face, I'm going to die if you don't," he mentioned desperately so quickly and in such a rushed way that you almost didn't understand him.

the blond hid more in you as if what he had just said hadn't made you hotter than you already were. there was silence for a second and then you let out a giggle.

vash stood up from you and looked at you with concern. -don't… don't make fun of me, name," he whimpered hurt.

before he could say anything else or run away from you, you grabbed vash by the shoulders and laid him down on the bed. he opened his eyes in surprise while you were getting rid of your pants and underwear. you did the same with him, unbuttoned his pants and pulled them down watching his erection get free. you pulled down his underwear too and grabbed him by his member.

-ahg! wait… name.- vash sat on the bed and almost came with just a couple of massages to his cock. it was already red and veiny and leaking pre-siminal fluid from just asking you to sit on his face.

-i don't think your friend thinks the same, look how you are… ask me again, pretty boy, ask me…".

vash swallowed loudly trying to concentrate, the way you were touching him, he needed it for a long time. his eyes couldn't stay still, he was looking at you, he was looking at how his cock was being touched. it was too much.

-name, name… aaahg! please, sit on my face, i… i need it," he said in whimpers and with a cute pout in his mouth.

without disturbing him any more you left his cock and guided him to lie down again. you caressed his face. -my seat is so nice, too bad it will soon be all ruined.-

-my god… you're going to kill me n-… without letting him finish you mounted on his face. feeling his breath on your sex, his nose pressed so deliciously that you couldn't help letting out a stifled moan.

you slowly rocked on top of him, now feeling his tongue timidly probing your skin, you jumped when vash grabbed you tightly by your ass, his metal hand felt so cold on your skin that you couldn't help but let it out.

-mhmmh, nhgh!- you only heard the muffled moans of your beloved boy. while you held on to the bed rails to be able to move and not fall off. it was so exquisite, vash was doing it so well. in an unexpected movement you felt his nose much closer to you and the friction of both was so good that you started to fuck his face without mercy.

-vash, vash, vash… -you felt so wildly ecstatic.

you could feel the wetness of your flow on the blond's face. he hadn't stopped kissing and licking you for a single second since you sat on top of him, his strong arms kept you pressed down on him with no escape. -let me see you, love.

when you lowered yourself a little and saw the mess that was vash, you felt yourself coming right there. his pupils dilated, his nose and cheeks still burning but full of your streams all over.

fuck, his expression, a silly little grin on his face, he was licking his lips every second and his gaze was lost but full of excitement on you. he was so stupid. god, how much you wanted to fuck him right now.

-i love you name… so much… agh! so much…" he said dumbly.

when suddenly you looked down a little embarrassed and saw that vash had already cum without even touching himself. fuck.

-what a dirty boy, vash stampede.

[spahhzy]

BOING-

Jaune: Neo, can you watch Adrian while I run to help Saphron and Terra with the groceries.

Neo, having rubver red ball ptsd the last time she watched Adrian, shook her head rapidly.

Neo: 'That boy is a menace! A cute menace!'

Jaune: Are you still on about the whole ball thing?

Neo: 'The rubber hitting my face still echoes in my ears, and that little sour patch knows he did it!'

Jaune, chuckling: Very funny, Neo. Just watch him for three minutes, okay? Love you.

Planting a kiss on her forehead, Jaune made his way to the door.

Neo: Jaune! Don't leave me here with-

Too late, Jaune was already out the door.

Neo gulped before turning to face the devil.

Adrian just looked on innocently before suddenly, mysteriously like an act of some divine force itself, a red rubber ball rolled into his hands.

A cute cruel smirk graced his chubby face.

Neo looked baffled and repeatedly tried to open the door that Jaune left, only to find it magically locked on the other side

she looked back to Adrian.

Adrian:

Neo could only look on in terror before the sight of something red flew at her at high speeds.

Neo barely reacted as she ducked out of the way.

Neo looked up to see Adrian, that cruel smirk on his face still as he held the red rubber ball up in the air.

Neo: Nooooooooo!

Boing.

[xx-midnight-candy-goblin-xx]

Jackson's Diary incorrect quotes because it has infected my brain

Timothy: *hugs Ronald*

Ronald: What this?

Timothy: Affection.

Ronald: Disgusting.

Timothy: . . .

Ronald: Do it again.

~

David: Your legs look nice in those pants

Exer: *flirting* you should see me without them

David: WITHOUT LEGS?!

~

Pamela: WHY is there BLOOD EVERYWHERE?!

Brenda: I aggressively poked someone with a knife

Pamela: YOU STABBED SOMEONE?

Brenda No, no. I aggressively poked someone with a knife

~

David: *talking to Ron, Brenda, and Pam* Exer and I are no longer friends

Exer: *shouting in the background* DAY, THAT IS A TERRIBLE WAY TO SAY WE ARE DATING!!

Ronald: *already knew this, and is just slurping his Caprimoon iconically*

~

Jolie: *half-jokingly* True love is killing a man together

Brenda: *serious and holding a knife* Let's kill W*lliam, then!

~

Exer: Who knows me best?

David: It's me!

Ronald: It's me!

Brenda: It's me!

Jackson: . . . It's probably not me

~

Ken: Um, yeah, I pull bitches?? RIGHT INTO MY DARK REALM OF TERRORS!!

~

Ken: *in a sticky situation, whispering to Tim and Jolie* I don't think we can mansplain, manipulate, malewife our way out of this one

Timothy: *loads gun* Manslaughter it is, then

Jolie: TIM, WHERE THE FUCK DID YOU GET THAT?-

~

Timothy: Oh ffffiddlesticks

Ken: WATCH YOUR FUCKING LANGUAGE!!

~

Jolie: *sees K3vin* Ugh, there's my ex

Ken: HE'S STILL ALIVE?? Jesus, this guy will not die-

Timothy: *holds gun* LET'S GO BACK AND KILL HIM AGAIN!!

Jackson: *writing K3vin's death in the diary*

~

Exer: *sees Willi@m* HE'S STILL ALIVE??

Brenda and Ronald: Unfortunately.

Jackson: *writing Willi@m's death in the diary*

~

Exer: *holding a kettle* Tea or coffee?

David: Tea

Exer: Wrong. It's coffee

~

Exer: So . . . you dating anyone?

David: My love life is a mess

Exer: I'M A MESS!! DATE ME!!

~

David: I'm bu

David: I'm bo

David: bj

Pamela: It's okay, take your time

David: *points at Exer* BOYS.

~

Exer: *flirting* You have beautiful eyes

David: Thanks, I need them to see

Exer: . . . .

(5 hours later)

David: OH.

[ethicaltreatmentofcowplants]

sulani: night of day four, household two's rotation - part i

note: completely au. featuring homebrand leo (with @akitasimblr's permission) - and a very special guest. cw for character death. thanks again to @ravingsockmonkey for bo, and for providing me with some input and ideas <3

"Oh, plum it all. First someone died, and then the very next morning I had to strike perhaps the most annoyingly decent person I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet with lightning. Which sounded funny in the writing room and she was fine but everyone was terrified. Watcher, why did you sign me up for this?"

(possesses)

"What the plum, Watcher?"

"Hello. I'm your worst nightmare. Also - boo."

"AHHHHHHH!!!! FUCK! Dude - why?"

"Also that is like the cheesiest line ever. You need to workshop it a little, is all I’m saying."

"The water on the rug, could you just not?"

"WELL I DON’T KNOW, ARSEHOLE, COULD YOU HAVE NOT LET ME DROWN?!?"

"LISTEN, THIS HASN’T EXACTLY BEEN EASY FOR ME EITHER."

"Oh, boo hoo, my death has been hard on you? Was striking Araminta by lightning and watching your brother cry over my grave hard on you too?"

"Well, actually-"

"Shut the fuck up, dude. You know, I thought that maybe being filthy rich is why you see people as disposable - like my mom did. But then I met Minty and she’s like the kindest person ever. And your brother turned out to be a good guy too. And your parents seem cool. So clearly this is you. All you. You chose to be this way."

"Listen please. I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry. Just please please please let me get some sleep so that I can actually try and figure all this out. I’ve been having nightmares as it is."

"Oh, poor little rich boy up in his swanky suite having nightmares due to his own fuck up. Why don’t you go down and complain about how hard your life is to your brother and everyone else currently sleeping on the ground and scraping for food on a deserted island? Why don’t you discuss your nightmares with my uncle, who had to watch me die on TV?"

"At least you still have a life. And I’m going to make it a misery…"

(screams in sheer terror)

"Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a starlight accolade award to haunt…"

"WHERE IS MINTY???"

"Watcher, why on earth am I here?"

[bluepeachstudios]

Ghost In the Shell Premier

Read Chapter One here!

Donnie’s breath caught in his throat, and something in his chest fluttered to life that had been dead for ten years.

The figure was a humanoid rat. He didn’t look quite like Splinter; he was much younger, he was brown instead of grayed, and his face was bald where there should have been fur. He was a human-rat mutant hybrid, though.

Donnie quickly snatched up his bo staff and his coat, ready to head out when he heard a chirp.

He froze, looking back at the computers. Terror and sadness welled up inside of him at that familiar sound. He gripped the edge of his desk as he looked at the rat man, who had paused and crouched down to set whatever he’d been carrying in his arms onto the ground.

Four tiny mutant turtles.

Donnie sank into his chair as he watched the rat interact with each one. They were different breeds of turtle. From their markings and physiology, there was a snapping turtle, a box turtle, a spiny softshell, and a red-eared slider.

An overwhelming sense of loss swallowed him whole.