#but even then i would still lose to at least one of them BUT STILL win the tournamement bc they'd be offered to be headmaster at wiztech

[petermorwood]

Reblogging this one again after agreeing wholeheartedly last time with the impassioned video complaint about armour being represented as ineffective, which it most certainly wasn't (or why bother?)

Also, re. that comment about Game of Thrones showing Mormont's armour working properly in an early ep, and cliché not working in a later one. A show as casual about showing graphic violence could have shown how to defeat an opponent in full plate, though IIRC Mormont wore nothing as complete.

*****

Side-rant: It would have been hard to make out regardless - and still is, the clip's on Youtube - because it happened during that battle scene with the crap minimal light.

I still haven't forgotten what I think was the lighting cameraman responding to criticism of "Too dark to see anything" with "Your TVs Were Badly Tuned". Well, bub, my TV was just fine with the programmes before, the programmes after, and the other scenes in that very GoT episode. The ones that weren't incompetently lit...

*****

So how to discomfit a plate-armoured man? First, use weapons designed to attack the armour, not the man. Impact weapons like maces and warhammers work...

...because bones break, joints separate and brains concuss even without getting through the metal.

Or use polearms such as halberds, bills, etc., again, attacking the armour as much as the man, and at a longer, potentially safer distance.

Though don't bet on that, because a man in well-fitted plate is, after a lifetime of getting used to moving in it, scary fast - and a gauntlet-punch even with no weapon in it will spoil any number of days.

They were often fitted with knuckle-spikes called "gadlings" for that very purpose.

Finally, dog-pile him with several attackers (expect to lose a couple) so that at least one has a chance to use a dagger on unarmoured or weakly armoured places.

Raise the visor then go for eyes, face or throat (didn't someone get a dagger in the eye in another early GoT ep?) Reduce the graphic visuals by keeping the visor down with a blade shoved through one eye-slot, while the actor's response shows that this Was Not Fun.

Go between the legs at the groin (always good for a knee-clench and Oooh! from the male audience) or inner upper thighs, where opened femoral arteries will bleed out in a matter of minutes.

Go through the armpits - they're usually protected by mail, but full body weight behind the upper rondel of one of these...

...should get through, next stop trachea or lungs, aorta or heart.

NB - The ballpoint pen included for scale shows how big medieval daggers were, with many even bigger - which should also make it clear why nobody ate their dinner using one. They had proper small knives for that, also spoons, picks, eventually forks and always fingers (with napkins and finger-bowls to keep them clean).

*****

Why reblog so soon?

Well, it's an articulate bitching session about a stupidity which vexes me, also these tags (though not about armour) made me chuckle and need seen, because they too are oh so right.

#he's right

#what drives me the craziest is unstripped pens and showing people writing on paper and parchment as if it's cheap

#WHERE ARE ALL THE WAX TABLETS

#also incorrect storage of books (eg early medieval type setting but the books are upright in shelves--WRONGO)

#showing monks writing and no penknife to be seen

#incorrectly dressed monks and nuns

[rafeysdeer]

imperfect for you (aka insecure reader x comforting rafe)

kook!reader x rafe cameron

prompt: a party that was supposed to be relaxing and to clear the head goes terribly wrong, leaving a very anxious and insecure reader, good thing she has her very caring boyfriend who knows exactly how to take care of her.

a/n: okay, that's the first time i write for rafe, i really like obx and rafe, so i tried my best in here, but i didn't really like it, i think it's bcs it's my first time writing about him. english is not my first language, i hope you guys like it 💗

You weren't exactly excited about going to this party, but you knew your boyfriend was, and you didn't want to be a party pooper, and at least you'd be with him, nothing bad would happen if you gave up and went to a party, right?

Well, you were wrong, terribly wrong, even though you were a kook, you never exactly fit in, you never got the right friends, and even though you were pretty, guys just didn't seem to be interested in you.

That was until, Rafe Cameron laid eyes on you, in your little sundress, having a drink at the club, just looking for some peace, you looked almost ethereal in his eyes, and he just knew you were meant to be together, it took a while to convince you of that. You spent most of the talk thinking it was some bad joke, because there was no way, Rafe Cameron, the king of kooks, was there, talking to you, interested in you and not on your hot friend, or literally anyone else.

You two get along almost instantly, his charm had you wrapped around his finger, and you loved it.

It had been months since you two started dating, but you still didn't feel like you fit into his social circle. So when, the first moment he separated from you at the party, a girl purposely bumped into you, spilling her drink on your short dress and whispering 'Whore' in your ear, you were sure.

Rafe didn't get it why you suddenly looked so upset, but he wanted everything, but to see his girl upset, so when he suggested for you, that you two go home, you happily headed towards the truck.

"Sweetheart, you need to talk to me. What the hell happened that you suddenly look like a kicked puppy?" and it only took his playful words for you to burst into tears in the passenger seat, it wasn't just the girl or the stained dress, everything looked too much, and you looked so small, a girl being an bitch was all you needed to lose it.

Rafe immediately looked at you with his blue eyes filled with concern. "Hey, love, I was just kidding, you don't look like a kicked puppy, I swear." he says trying to understand what happened to make you break down.

You looked up at him, your pretty eyes shining with tears. "I just-, I don't feel like I fit in, Rafey, like i fit right in with you, but i'm just unwanted by everyone else," she says, her voice cracking with tears. "I tried to fit in, but I've been around these people my whole life, and they've never liked me, and now I feel like I'm holding you back, or making them look down at you"

Now, he looks like a kicked puppy as he looks at you with a worried expression. "Honey, you don't have to fit in, those people at the party, they don't like me either, they look at me like shit too and that's not your fault, not at all, you don't need to fit in with them because you think you have to because of me, the only person I need by my side, is you."

She blinks her bright eyes at him, as if the words had run away from her mind. The car stops in front of the house, and he gets out, opening the door for her, greeting her with a kiss before the words even come back to her. "I love you, no matter what any of those assholes think, because you're the one who's here for me, not them."

She looks at him, looking almost wonderstruck, a smile breaking across her face, wrapping her arms around his neck. "The only person I need is you, Rafe," she says, knowing that the feeling was mutual. "What do you say we go inside, put you in some comfy clothes, and watch Sex and the City?" She laughs at how well he knows her as they walk into the house, his hand around her waist.

"Sounds perfect."

[tastesousweet]

01 : Who’s the New Guy?

hamzah has a summer gig as the pool boy for one of his friends and y/n can’t help it if she’s just so intrigued by this friend of her brother’s.

01. 02. 03.

crushes came to you quite often.

you remember playground crushes; the boys you liked to stare at from afar as you played in the sand as a child. or the boys who frequented your prestigious ballet studio who were pretty and rambunctious which aided your curiosity. there was presley in high school who you found undeniably cool with his tattoos and effortless guitar playing skills; things ended with your heart torn at the fact that he admitted to enjoying your admiration and desire for him more than you and your entirety. he must’ve thought you were some ditz with the way he spoke to you that night : “i’m sorry, but i’m no liar, i never said i loved you, let alone liked you. in what world would we ever be together, y/n?”

your older sister, mina, has always told you boys are nothing but compliant lap dogs to the other boys around them; she warned you that you’ll never find one that would hold you because just because you asked (or even better if you didn’t have to ask), that he would make sure his buddy is wrapping his arms around a girl before he found it okay to do so. give and take, a fight for validation. a constant look around to ensure they’re accepted among themselves, “they’ll never learn to care if you except the bare minimum from them and it’s only worse that you’re so quick to accept any “love” without them having to at least try, y/n.”

she told you not to get caught up in the drama that came with boys (their breaking hearts and such) — or the other catty girls who were in competition to hold a guy’s attention for longer than a night in bed or date night out.

your older brother (who's also mila's twin) always claimed that your sister was spitting out a mouthful of bullshit whenever she’d start her hate-speech against men. this would typically lead the two to begin their own brawl, leaving you to solemnly look the other way, to find a safe piece of eye-candy that would surely turn your pupils into tiny black hearts.

while you tend to get a little fantastical about your intense desire for devotion and affection, your first, grounded love came in the form of ballet.

at age four you found yourself captivated by a small ballet theater production of sleeping beauty, you still fondly remember your great aunt accompanying you and the way she cried the entire time. you haven’t known a time where you weren’t amazed by the way you could move your body. you remember stretching yourself obsessively and eventually by age six you were watching late night shows with your family while maintaining a full split in front of the tv.

yet now, at nineteen that childhood dream you’ve worked towards your entire life feels like an overwhelming, burnt-out nightmare with clouded vision and harshly barked orders of “higher!” “now tighter!” “follow through!” “be consistent!” from your roster of highly established instructors, all fighting around in your head.

those first two years of school gave you a glimpse of what you’ve always thought you wanted — early mornings, strict diets, long days of structured dancing, endless nights of studying, eye bags covered in concealer, headaches from tight ponytails or buns, icing your knee caps on weekends, losing your mind and your poise demeanor without a doubt by the end of each semester. and above all you missed your parents, so bad.

so, after much pouting (and a few phone calls that consisted of you crying and blubbering about how broken down you’d become), your parents allowed for you to spend your summer break at home with them (rather than your usual confinement to an acclaimed, private ballet institution for the entire break), under the guise that you’d be training with your old high school instructor to ensure you maintain your pristine skill level. you were sure that obligation was easy enough, as you’d already been through the hell of it in the spring.

now the sun beats on your glowy skin as you lie on a cream lounge chair. the bikini you wear is a soft kiss of pink, decorated in tiny black polka dots, that leaves little to imagine. your long legs are crossed at the ankle, bare feet exposed with your toes painted an elegant matching shade of pink. your book is now abandoned at your hip as you gaze, with squinted eyes, at the boy stood across the lawn’s wide stretch of concrete. his focus is on cleaning your family pool — rarely stopping unless he finds it completely necessary to wipe away a growing layer of sweat from his forehead.

he’s hasn’t given you any attention, barely a glance over, nothing close to an introduction. yet he’s somehow become your new person of interest with such little effort or time. you’ve covered yourself in sunscreen (in a slow fashion just in case he wanted a teasing show mid-shift), flipped onto your stomach to show off the curve of your ass as you read a few chapters of a memoir (trying to focus on the words written in times new roman to avoid getting distracted by the tall man), you’ve gone inside to grab a pair of sunglasses (to have a reason to walk by him and gain a shield that allows you to stare without your eyes on display), after ten minutes you decided sunglasses made the world far too dark and you would rather he know you’re staring at him than stare and get a poor view.

there was something about his warm, beautifully tanned skin and toned arms working against his white wife-beater that hugged him well. and his face was so inviting — you liked it when he had a question about a certain pipe and went to ask your dad about it, as he listened he cracked a smile and gave a nod of his head in understanding. it’s unbearable that you don’t know his name, but you can imagine it’s something cute that you’d like the sound of when hearing your voice deliver it.

after a much needed bathroom break, you make your way back outside with a deep red, raspberry popsicle in your hand. you lick over the cold dessert a few times as you move closer to where the boy sits, obviously exhausted, with his head tilted down towards his knees.

“hi,” you speak, standing in front of him.

he seems to be caught off guard by your presence, flinching slightly before looking up (attempting to refrain from scanning over your exposed body), “uh, hey?”

“are you finished?” you question with a slight head tilt.

“oh, not really, i just have t’pressure check the jets in the hot tub. that’s my bad, ill get back to it.” he goes to stand but you place your hand gently on his shoulder so that he stays.

you both look at your hand’s placement then into each other’s eyes. you smile awkwardly, taking your hand off of him and begin pretending to dust something off of his shoulder, “… just some sorta feather or …” you clear your throat and retract your hand again, “sorry, um, i just thought i’d introduce myself. because- well, i live here and i guess i … just wanted to know your name,” you speak softly and bring the popsicle to your mouth to suckle a little more.

your eyes look at him with a sense and emotion he’s not sure anyone has in his entire life. you’re like a viper or siren, some sort of creature that’s hypnotizing him with beauty and desire. as he speaks you continue lapping the popsicle in your mouth, he clears his throat, “hamzah.”

“hamzah? i like it.” you love it.

“yeah?” he looks down at the popsicle that’s now slick from your mouth’s warmth, then he’s looking back in your eyes, “thanks.”

“how’d my parent’s find such a cutie to come pour chlorine in the pool?” you flirt.

“i mean i do more than pour chlorine in a pool, y’know i check the piping, change the tank …” your stare is so captivating it’s hard for him to not feel like blushing, “i’ll, uh, tell you all about it later. t’answer your question, i’m friends with leo and needed a summer gig before goin’ back to school.”

you can’t believe it’s true — your brother doesn’t have nice friends. your brother even doesn’t have friends with real jobs let alone any that plan to complete college. you laugh softly, “no, you’re not? i know all of my brother’s friends.”

hamzah shrugs his shoulders, “i mean, i guess we weren’t the closest in high school,” he pinches his eyes slightly, “you are the younger sister, right? the one who’s got all that dance business goin’ on?”

you shake your head in slight embarrassment at your description, “yes, that’s me with the “dance business”” you smile, “i’m y/n.”

“cool. s’nice to meet you,” he reaches his hand out and you place yours in his hold as you two shake hands.

── .✦

you were pouring a glass of water when the idea came to you; you knew hamzah was bound to be leaving soon but you craved to hear more from him. all it took was a slight (but very intentional) tumble of the words, “i wanna invite that new pool boy to stay dinner,” for your father to immediately agree.

he continues to stir at the sizzling vegetables in his pan, “oh! that’s a wonderful idea, sweetheart, open that for for me?” he nods towards the sliding glass door.

you try not to display your excitement too blatantly, but can’t help that your socked feet glide over to the door.

your father’s immediately calling out, “hey hamzah! c’mere a minute would’ya?”

hamzah immediately bolts over, he’s out of breath and surprised to see you leaning against the open door, “hey,” he directs to you but it’s sounds more like a gasp for air than a word.

“no running by the pool,” you whisper back, watching as his face of confusion turns into another smile.

“fair,” hamzah shrugs.

“hamzah, we were hopin’ you’d stay for dinner tonight?”you father speaks loudly, and the way he says it makes it sound like more of a statement than a question.

his face lights up, “sur-”

“say yes,” you warn through your teeth, knowing your father’s irritation with any use of a word as dismissive as “sure”.

“yes, um, yes that sounds great. thank you, sir.” he can see you giggling beside him, and when your father turns away he playfully nudges your side with his elbow.

── .✦

dinner was full of undying conversation and many overlaps in dialogue. never a dull moment.

“y/n, pass the mashed potatoes,” your brother calls out.

you whine, “leo, i just said my entire body hurts from training, i’ve passed it back and forth like four times already.”

“oh my god, and somehow your complaining just ruined my appetite, anyway. i can always count on you, y/n.” he laughs under his breath.

“that’s enough, now.” your mother speaks up, “but y/n, i’m getting worried, do you think you need some extra sessions dedicated to stretching?”

“i’m fi-”

“shoot, hamzah could give you some tips on stretchin’.” your brother jokes, “weren’t you in ballet?”

hamzah is completely flushed, “like, barely, my parents forced me when i was, like, seven-”

he’s cut off as soon as you register what this could mean for you, “wait, you’d really help me?” you ask with a sense of genuine curiosity, and a big, encouraging smile of course.

“hamzah i never knew you were so, multitalented.” your mother comments.

leo laughs, “he’s n-”

hamzah clears his throat and wipes his mouth with a small napkin, “well, yeah, i’ll help out wherever i can.”

“really?!” you’re relieved that he actually agreed.

“oh good fucking luck,” your brother sighs under his breath and claps a hand against hamzah’s shoulder.

── .✦

“don’t forget you need to meet me at the studio at 6 to beat the rush, wear something flexible, and remember to bring your smart brain and lots of patience — i can be kinda bitchy that early in the morning!”

hamzah sighs, returning to standing a few inches above you now that he’s done tying his shoes in your foyer, “as opposed to bringing my dumb brain and all of my impatience —” he smiles at you and but your face is plain and straight, “right. yeah, i got it all. you also wrote it down for me on my hand, remember?” he shows his hand with purple, glittery ink covering the palm.

your arms are crossed as you explain, “yes but that’s just unreliable- it’ll be gone by morning…” you shrug and watch as he pulls a sweatshirt in over his head, “and i need to tell you these things in case you forget about me and don’t set an alarm.”

he laughs as adjusts the sleeves of the mossy green sweatshirt, “i won’t.”

“cool.”

“so i’m wakin’ up at 10 and goin’ for breakfast then meeting up with you?” he jokes and immediately catches your hand in his own before you get the chance to push his shoulder. he laughs as he brings you close, keeping your hand in his as he offers a warm side hug. “i’ll be at the studio before 6, how about that?”

you nod as you pull away, “you better.”

“uh huh,” he opens your front door and finally calls out “good night!” to your family, who all echo the sentiment back to him. before he fully walks out he turns to you, with your hold on the tall wooden door, “bye, i’ll see you in, like, nine hours or somethin’.”

“bye, thank you,” you smile and watch him rush over to his car parked on the street, “don’t forget, hamzah!” you holler and watch his figure throw a thumbs up into the air before he climbs into his slightly janky car.

── .✦

you both were a couple of yawning, baby fawns with the amount of slow blinks and constant, accidental bumps into each other as you walked into the quiet studio and found your way into a private practice room.

the colors of the walls and equipment were various muted browns and light grays. you set your duffle bag on the ground and stretched your arms above you, “so, what exactly are we doing?”

hamzah rubs at his eyes, he’s clad in basic grey sweatpants and another white wife-beater, his hair is its usual curly with slight frizz from sleep, “umm, you’re the professional here?”

“hamzahhhh, you said you would help!” you drag while adjusting yourself onto the floor, stretching out your legs on either side of you.

“yeah! but i wasn’t expectin’ to have any stretches made! im not a yoga instructor, i was just gonna be your little assistant.” he moves to the ground with you.

“m’kay, here,” you flutter your fingers to encourage him to mimic your position and hold onto your forearms, “and now flatten your back and lean forward,” you both complete the action then return to sitting up.

“what do they always say? come on, deep breaths, in!” you both hold “and out,” you both release.

you smile at him,“you’re a natural, look at you!” you compliment.

the two of you complete your entire yoga flow that you’d do almost every day at university, before progressing into the most random yoga poses you’d heard of under the guise of “let’s just try it!”

there were a few fails due to lack of balance or the need to burst into laughter but generally you two worked well together.

just before you two left you asked hamzah to help you stretch deeper, as you lie flat on a mat, lifting your leg up boldly. “i just need you to kneel down and push my leg all the way into my chest for me …” you bite at your bottom lip to suppress a smile.

hamzah finishes his sip of water, watching you lie there in that tight yoga piece, dangling a foot in the air and inviting him to be so close to you. “yeah? ‘kay, guide me.” he sets the bottle down and kneels in front of you as you asked.

“mhm, yeah here i’ll just,” you move your leg onto his shoulder and bring his hand to your lower thigh, just above your knee, “right … there.” you let your hand linger on his before looking back at him. he’s already focused on your face and your next command, “just lean forward and bring my leg with you,” you accidentally let out the tiniest, whiniest little groan.

“m’sorry,” he whispers with wide eyes.

“no, don’t. it’s good, i needed this,” you remind.

“yeah, just breathe, you’re doin’ good.” he coaches while pushing your leg further.

── .✦

“mmm! if the girls in my class knew i was eating this i’d be skinned and shunned from the program!” you shake your head, raspberry jelly dribbling from the side of your lips. you’re more than grateful hamzah suggested you both stop by a small shop, only a block away, for some post-yoga sweetness.

hamzah continues to walk back towards the studio with you next to him, crinkling wax paper wrapping into his pocket, “that’s gnarly as fuck, you couldn’t even have like a single plain donut? just one?”

“no, and half of ‘em have heart palpitations at the thought of honey nut cheerios. i think donuts would end them, unfortunately.” you wipe your face.

“well, damn maybe ballet-in’ kinda sucks?”

“maybe.” you sigh and bring the large jelly donut up to his mouth as he bites, “what’d you think it was like?”

he shrugs, chews a little, then answers, “i dunno- fun?”

you let out a soft laugh and take another bite. you’re just a little annoyed that hamzah makes it far too easy to crush on him — how dare he be so pretty and kind and actually interested…?

── .✦

a/n: hiii first part of my short series for hamzah! yaaayyy!! hope u all liked this, i did not proof read too in depth so im kinda just prayin it makes sense. love ya! <3

[sofa-king-lame]

Buddie Drabble just because!

Started writing this to fill a prompt and it took on a life of its own, so…here’s a drabble for no reason other than I wanted to write it.

—

Kissing Buck in his Jeep at a Raising Cane’s drive-thru at two in the morning wasn’t exactly the way he had planned on kissing him for the first time, but Eddie wouldn’t change it given the chance.

They’d spent the day hitting thrift stores up the coast in search of a first-edition book by an author Buck was currently fixated on. Neither of them had realised just how far up the coast they’d ended up until it hit eight o’clock and Buck had punched in Eddie’s address to head home. Five hours if they took the highway, four and a half if they bent the speed limits a little. Because it was the end of a holiday weekend they hit traffic just outside of Fresno, adding at least an extra god knows how many hours to their trip.

Eddie had dozed off at some point to the sound of Buck tapping his fingers on the steering wheel along to his playlist of nineties alternative songs. He wakes as Buck finishes ordering their food in the drive-thru, rubbing his gritty eyes with closed fists.

“That’ll be twenty-five even,” comes the exhausted voice of the cashier. “Please drive to the next window.”

“Thank-you!” Buck says cheerfully. Eddie doesn’t know how he’s still so upbeat, given they’d left Eddie’s place at six that morning. Buck notices Eddie is awake and flashes him a soft smile that makes Eddie’s stomach somersault in a way he’s become quite accustomed to.

“Where are we?” Eddie yawns. “Aside from the obvious.”

“Bakersfield,” Buck answers quietly as he pays the cashier and pulls forward to the next window. “Felt like my stomach was starting to eat itself, figured you’d be hungry too.”

“Famished,” Eddie replies, taking the food Buck hands him. Opening the bag he finds exactly what he would have ordered for himself had he been awake. He stares at the food, unblinking as he turns to look at Buck (who has pulled in to a parking space so they can eat).

“What? Did I order the wrong thing?” Buck asks, eyebrows creasing in concern. “No pickles, extra bread and extra sauce. Right?”

“No, that’s - this is exactly right,” Eddie croaks. “Buck, the last time we ate Raising Cane’s together was two years ago. You seriously remembered my order?”

“I remember everything about you,” Buck murmurs softly and that’s all that Eddie needs before he’s leaning over the console and kissing Buck like he’s the answer to all of Eddie’s questions. Which he is, he’ll have you know. Buck makes a muffled surprised noise against Eddie’s lips before he’s kissing him back enthusiastically, fisting a hand in the front of Eddie’s shirt. Dreams by The Cranberries starts drifting through the car speakers and Eddie has to pull back to laugh.

“Your stupid fucking playlist,” he huffs in amusement, forehead pressed against Buck’s.

“What’s wrong with it? This is a great song!” Buck argues indignantly, bringing one hand up to rest on the back of Eddie’s neck.

“It’s perfect,” Eddie sighs.

“You’re perfect,” Buck mutters, which is total bullshit but Eddie will allow it.

“I love you,” Eddie murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to Buck’s lips.

“I love you more,” Buck grins.

“Not a competition, Buck,” Eddie snorts, because if it were Eddie would win hands down.

“You’re just saying that because you know you’d lose if it was,” Buck teases, kissing Eddie again. Eddie lets him have this one too, because he has Buck. He doesn’t need much else.

[cybershock24601]

I'm sure someone else has already thought of this but I'm so convinced that modern Illario would be one those guys that make those thirst trap cooking videos - you know the ones - and starts building a decent following of horny older women (like Zara Renata) only for his fame to be completely eclipsed by some poorly shot and poorly edited video Rook posted of Lucanis cooking going insanely viral out of nowhere.

The video is shot in Rook's kitchen and it's Lucanis from the chin down, sleeves rolled up, and in a goofy apron (because Rook only owns goofy aprons) explaining in his nice soothing voice how to cook some dish and it's got some stupid caption like "when your man is teaching you how to cook so you don't die of malnutrition😍" that was intended just for their friends to see because it's clearly a silly candid video.

Probably no one would have seen it if there weren't some sort of algorithm containment breach that likely came from Ma Harding who wants to know what Lucanis is cooking. Rook answers and then just ignores their phone because they're still getting their cooking lesson and need to pay attention. Rook also doesn't keep notifications on or use social media much because they don't even notice the short little video they posted blowing up out of nowhere where half the comments are about how good the food looks and the other half about how good Lucanis looks.

Illario notices though and absolutely loses it because how come some stupid video of his cousin cooking doing so much better then the many videos Illario puts a ton of time and effort into making?! Illario starts giving Lucanis the cold shoulder and Lucanis is just so confused about what Illario's problem is this time and corners him because he's being ridiculous and Illario just goes "You know exactly what this about" and Lucanis who really, really doesn't know replies "Illario I have no idea what you're talking about" and Illario just shows him the video and Lucanis has no idea why he is so upset until he sees just how many likes and comments on the silly little video Rook took of him the other day. Lucanis is honestly a little disturbed by just how horny the comments are while Illario is telling Lucanis that he is not going to upstage him this time, just wait Lucanis, Illario is going to prove he's the better cooking content creator and dramatically walks away.

At the very least this is explaining those weird comments Taash and Harding had been making for the past week. Lucanis texts Rook about the video after this and Rook is super surprised that so many people had seen it and wants to know if they should take it down but its the internet so it's too late for that. Rook does get super curious about what Illario meant about making his own cooking videos and tracks down his account and almost dies of cringe when they start watching them. Those videos are definitely getting sent to the group chat where everyone proceeds to start roasting Illario over them and Lucanis is left desperately hoping he gets some sudden memory loss because he really wishes he had never seen his cousin try so desperately hard to be sexy or molest food like that.

[the-s1lly-corner]

Twisted glisten x reader who decides to stay with him?

Reader staying behind w/ Twisted!Glisten

The timing on this is impeccable because me and my friend are playing DW and there's glisten on this floor (I'm spectating as I write this opening) (scraps and goob were also in this floor. And toodles. As I write this bestie is COOKING) (they're the last one standing) (THEY LIVED)

Notes: reader is gn, toon reader, ambiguous ending but it looks grim for reader, short post, twisting is treated as an infection in glistens case, maybe ill make a part 2 that takes place after this we'll see

CWs: none

God... this one hurts.

It was already hard enough to deal with the fact that the twisteds were still your friends- they still had their faces, just not their minds

But not... glisten.. he was still there, even if shaken. He could still talk, and reach out to you

Maybe asking to keep him company while the others extracted and scavenged was a bad idea. Maybe you should have considered how this would make you feel before you jumped at the chance

Was it hope that maybe you'd be able to bring him back down before the machines finished? A yearning to come back to your pal? Or maybe a sense of normalcy as you tried to mutter to him that he was still beautiful

...not that he had asked for your praises, no. Those demands were long gone and replaces by pleas for you to stay and proclamations of fear

He hardly responds to anything you say as he wanders around. And each time you have to run off to lose the floors other twisted you scramble to find glisten again... he did not wait for you

If his hands weren't tied together you'd hold his hand- either to give him comfort or to keep him close

The others would NEVER take him onto the elevator- he's already way too close to turning for them to comfortably allow it. Valid, but it doesn't make it hurt any less when you hear glisten start panicking when he hears the elevator open

But...

..

He's pacified when you stay rooted at his side. You don't respond to the calls of your friends as the timer winds down. You don't step into sight so they at least know you're alive. You couldn't bring yourself to move from the corner you and glisten have tucked yourselves away in

The hold glisten has on you is tight, bordering on painful... but..

The elevator shuts and continues it's descent

...this was the.. right choice right? Maybe not THE right one... but it wasn't a wrong one surely?

Regardless it was all the same; Glisten continued to keep you in his hold long after the elevator slammed shut as his fear of being alone overpowered him in that moment

And you were going to do your best to soothe him

[collapsedglasshouses]

TANGLED THREADS [Noah Sebastian x fem!reader, Nick Ruffilo x fem!reader]

COLLEGE!AU

CHAPTER ONE: STRIKING A CHORD SUMMARY: There is something about you, Noah can't really bring himself to process. No matter what he does, everything comes back to you. Unfortunately, he knows that Nick feels the exact same way. PAIRING: Noah Sebastian x fem!Reader; mentions of Nick Ruffilo x fem!Reader WARNINGS: SMUT, MDNI, 18+ [unprotected p in v, degradation, rough sex ig, …], no mentions of reader’s name, angst, noah is toxic and delusional and also a utterly big simp, reader is toxic, toxic dynamics, mentions of noah thinking about nick during intercourse kind of?, swearing, its not completely proofread … WORD COUNT: 3.8K A/N: Hello, hello! A little note at the beginning. I got inspired while watching Challengers for the hundredth time in like… four weeks. This is inspired by a scene in the movie. Other than that, I hope you enjoy this chapter. I’m planning on writing two more parts. For those, who miss Nicky in this one, chapter 2 will be for you!

Noah Sebastian liked to think of himself as a patient guy. He was nice. People said he was understanding and empathetic. It was something he was known for on campus. It was no secret that a lot of people on campus, especially some guys he had encountered, were total douchebags. But he was not one of them. He was known as “the sweet guy that likes to sing and play the guitar”. At least, according to most people who he had met.

That being said, he really couldn’t wrap his mind around why you were frustrating him so deeply he wanted to collapse to the ground and seize to exist.

It’s been a while since he and his best friend, Nick, had met you for the very first time at this talent show at the bar down the street. The two boys weren’t new to these shows. They were frequent contestants and had already won a fair share of these events. Noah wasn’t in college to seek a particular profession; he was there because his family wanted him to. Meanwhile Nick just enjoyed living in the moment. He didn’t really have a plan for the future, so when his best friend proposed his idea of becoming musicians, he simply agreed. Since then, nothing was more important to the two boys then their music project, with which they desperately wanted to break through.

At least it was until they met you. To say Noah had been through hell and back since the moment you stepped on that stage at that particular night, was a drastic understatement.

He still vividly remembered watching you as you smiled shyly, your guitar hanging from your neck like it was a statement piece. He remembered the almost physical reaction he had to you. The crowd was cheering nearly as loud as they did for him and Nick when they had stepped on stage just an hour prior. There even were people that made signs for you in support.

It was so obvious you were a favourite and when you started your performance, Noah felt like he was going into cardiac arrest. Your voice was angelic and the way your fingers glided over the strings of your guitar made his knees weak. He could tell that Nick was thinking the exact same thing. If the way he swallowed so hard wasn’t hint enough, it definitely was how his breath slightly caught in his throat when you started to engage with the crowd just a little more.

"Goddamn..." Nick had muttered under his breath. Noah could distantly see Nick’s hand clench on top of his thigh when you smiled into the crowd.

Nick and Noah didn’t even realize they were openly gawking at you and if they had noticed they probably would have been embarrassed. Still, it felt like everything they did was justified. You were creating magic on that stage and everyone in that room knew it.

Normally, Noah would have been disappointed over losing a contest, considering him and Nick where trying to get more people into their music they were slowly developing, but when it was announced that you had gotten the award, it felt like all his sorrows simply vanished.

“You know… If you get her on our project… I’ll gladly play the bass.” Nick let out in an almost stuttering breath as both of them stared at the stage where you were thanking everyone.

A couple of weeks, more like months, had past since that night. What Noah really didn’t expect was the fact that he was currently sitting with you at a lunch table, while you were complaining about a literature assignment you still had to finish. In all honesty, Noah wasn’t really listening to you, too busy trying his best not to glare too obviously at the Limp Bizkit hoodie you were wearing. It was extremely obvious who this piece of clothing belonged to, and Noah was internally fuming because of it. It was Nick’s. The hoodie string had a slightly different color than the rest of it. Noah remembered when Nick had changed the string after losing the original one.

You must have kept it the last time you saw Nick. The bold letters on the front seemed to almost mock Noah. He was biting the inside of his cheek while you rambled on and slammed his can of coke down on the table with a little more force than he intended. You hadn’t noticed. Or at least, you ignored it.

Noah didn’t really know what exactly was going on between Nick and you, but he tried his utter best to be okay with it. At least he did in the beginning. After all, Nick had been his best friend since Noah was twelve. Noah should have been stoked about the fact that you were into Nick just as much as he was into you. It was so clearly obvious it was the case when the two of them had walked up to you to congratulate you on winning at that talent show weeks ago.

It wasn’t like Nick was a player or something, but Noah almost crumbled into a million pieces when he realized you were playing into Nick’s desperate attempts to get into your pants. You weren’t averting your eyes shyly or blushing when he blatantly checked you out, you were throwing back smart comebacks to his lines. You were looking up at him through your lashes, blinking at Nick as if you were innocence itself and Noah felt like something inside him had died on the spot.

It would have been absolutely shattering and soul-crushing for Noah if he wasn’t such a good friend. He simply stifled this feeling that could have only been described as jealousy and plastered the best smile on his face as he watched Nick and you shamelessly flirt with each other.

It wasn’t like it was anyone’s fault. Nick and he really hadn’t had the chance to talk about who could try and score with you prior to that evening. If anything, it was fair game, and Noah simply didn’t take the chance out of kindness and loyalty to his best friend.

The night had lasted long enough for you and Noah to connect as well, but differently. You were chatting about college and what courses you were going to attend after the break, realizing you had a lot of things together. You were smiling so sweetly at him over your glass. Still, it had stung seeing you laugh at Nick’s joke with slightly too much enthusiasm while sharing a cigarette with Noah, but there was absolutely nothing he would or could do about it.

You had chosen Nick, and it had nothing to do with Noah. At least, that was what he was trying to convince himself of.

But the longer he spent time with you while Nick wasn’t around, the angrier he got every time Nick would tag along and steal away all your attention. First, he thought it was absolutely stupid and childish of him to feel that way but as time passed, it became this gnawing, not ignorable, almost consuming rage that twisted his guts every single time he saw you with Nick.

“You know, Nick invited me to the movies this weekend. He asked if you and Chrissy would like to join.” You mumbled as you took another bite from your lunch.

Chrissy, right. She was a girl he had met in that particular literature class you were just complaining about. They had hooked up a couple of times, but Noah just couldn’t focus on her. They had decided to be friends, but honestly it was just awkward for Noah to hang out with her now.

Noah involuntarily huffed at your statement as he took a bite as well. “Yeah. Sounds fun.”

That was when you caught onto him.

When he looked at you under his lashes, you were already looking at him. “You know… you don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

Noah’s eyebrows flinched upwards, like he was caught. “No… No, no. It’s fine… Really. I’ll be there.”

You slowly nodded, still watching him with a hint of skepticism. “Are you sure, you’re alright? You’ve been acting strange.”

“Yeah.” He blurted out too quickly, but you seemed like you didn’t want to push it.

Nothing felt right, and Noah knew it would have been a way smarter decision to just keep his mouth shut, but his words had outrun his thoughts. “I just-…”

You were watching him again, encouraging him to continue with a slight nod. Noah fiddled with his food, searching for the right words.

“I’m just surprised you two are still… you know… together, I guess.” He muttered under his breath. His more rational self would’ve punched him for that, but the anger simmering inside of him took the wheel.

“Excuse me?” You exclaimed, caught completely off guard, your tone sharp with disbelief.

Noah just sighed and set down his fork. “Nick… He’s always had a hard time… committing.”

One of your eyebrows shot up as you studied him. His tone was calm, even sweet, but the accusation behind his words hit like slap. Guilt twisted in Noah’s stomach almost immediately after the words left his mouth, but this time he swore to himself he wouldn’t retreat. He held your gaze. He wasn’t lying - Nick really did have a track record of avoiding any kind of commitment. Yet deep down, Noah knew the truth. He and Nick weren’t close enough at the moment for him to know if Nick was even seeing anyone else.

You didn’t respond right away, your eyes scanning his face like you were trying to decode him. Noah forced himself to maintain eye contact.

“Are you really shit talking your best friend right now?” You said at last, leaning back in your chair. The casualness in your tone unsettled Noah, and it showed in the subtle clench of his jaw.

“I am not.” He insisted, his voice tingled with frustration. “I just know him a lot better than you do and I am trying to spare you the heartache.”

“Sounds a lot like you are shit talking to me.” Your tone hardened, disbelief mingling with irritation. “And who even says you know what the hell is best for me?”

“You know I didn’t mean it that way.” Noah answered you, his tone matching yours. “He just doesn’t have feelings for you!”

You scoffed, your face twisting in anger. “Why the fuck do you even care?”

“I am just saying.” Noah exclaimed, crossing his arms in front of his chest defensively. “He hinted at it.”

That was a lie. A blatant, baseless lie. Nick hadn’t said anything of the sort. In fact, Nick hardly ever talked about you unless you were present. And when Noah thought about it, he wasn’t sure why he’d even lie. Maybe it was the anger clouding his judgement, or maybe it was something he wasn’t quite ready to admit to himself.

“Did it ever occur to you that I do not care?” You snarled at him, leaning forward now, voice rising.

At this point, a few people at nearby tables began to quiet down, their curiosity getting the better of them as they tried to eavesdrop. Noah stayed silent, the weight of your words sinking in—but not quite hitting home.

“I just wanted to tell you that.” He said weakly, fumbling to defend himself. God, you were infuriating. Of course, you would defend Nick.

“Yeah, but I wanna know why you care?” You asked again, your jaw tightened. You already knew why he cared but you wanted him to say it. You leaned closer to him over the table and spoke quietly. “Does it bug you so much that I fuck your best friend?”

Noah clenched his fists, jaw flexing in anger. He’s never seen you this mad before and he especially never expected to be the cause of it.

His eyes narrowed as he held your gaze, leaning closer to you. “You don’t get it, do you?” He muttered through his teeth.

“I think you don’t get it, Noah.” You bite out as Noah was starting to smell the familiar scent of your perfume. In other cases, it would have consumed him, but right now he couldn’t back down. “Who said I want Nick to be in love with me? Who the fuck said I give even the slightest fuck about any of that shit?”

Noah scoffed at your desperate attempt to come off as nonchalant. He stopped himself from rolling his eyes. “Oh, please, sweetheart.” He shifted even closer to you. You could feel his breath on your face. “The way you act like a lost puppy around him tells me you care deeply about that.”

You blinked at him for a second, taken aback by his rude tone. You knew in some way he was right, but the fact that he called you out so blatantly made your blood boil.

Noah on the other hand thrived. The look of rage and intensity in your eyes was what Noah searched for, for months at this point.

“You know what.” You muttered, Noah didn’t miss how your eyes travelled to his lips for a second. “Fuck you. You are literally the worst fucking friend in the world.”

With that you stood up from your chair, gathering your stuff and leaving the cafeteria, leaving Noah with nothing but his thoughts.

Maybe he was a bad friend. Noah could feel the heat rising in his cheeks. A weird mix of emotions running through his veins. There was embarrassment, jealousy, anger, hatred and lust. The way you were looking at him, anger burning in your eyes, shot straight to part of his body he didn’t want to admit it did. His heartbeat echoed in his ears.

Noah was in misery for the rest of the day. He had decided to skip his classes after lunch, simply hiding inside his dorm. He stared at the ceiling as your fight replayed in his head. In some way he felt good about finally letting out his thoughts. But with that came the resentment. He couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that he had lied. He had lied about his best friend, just because he was so desperate to get close to you.

He thought about texting Nick, but eventually gave up after numerous attempts to find the right words about what had happened without telling him he was a fucking liar.

The sun had already set when he made the decision that he had to forget you. He needed to focus on his dream of becoming a serious musician. He couldn’t waste his time on something so simple than this feeling he had about you. It didn’t matter how pretty you were. It didn’t matter how he felt a particular part of his body move when you simply leaned over the table to look at him through your gorgeous lashes. He needed to forget you.

That was what he had decided before his phone reminded him of reality.

Come over.

Noah had never moved that fast in his entire life, rushing out of his room, with only his phone and the keys. He made it to your dorm in such a short time that he nearly sprinted over campus. He needed to catch his breath when he reached the corridor where your room was at. All his resolutions had vanished into thin air when he came to a hold in front of your door.

He hesitated for a second, staring at the door, his mind racing. Should he apologize? What would you want to say? Were you still mad at him? God, he hoped you weren’t mad anymore.

He bit down on his lip as he quietly knocked on your door. Barely a second passed before it opened.

He didn’t have the time to process what was happening, as you gripped the front of his shirt and dragged him inside. Noah’s back hit the now closed door with a thud, his breath caught in his throat in surprise. He tried to save the jacket that hung on the door from falling to the ground, but your grip on his shoulders, didn’t make it possible for him to do so.

When he allowed himself to look at you, he noticed you looked different. Your eyes were puffy and red. Your breath came out in short burst as you stared him down. All the emotions he had just sworn to bury rushed back at him when he stared into your soul.

“What’s going on?” He asked, his voice a mix of confusion and worry. His hands came to a rest on your hips, hesitatingly, not sure if he should touch you.

He noticed you were still wearing Nick’s hoodie.

Noah was close to opening his mouth again, when you suddenly yanked him forward, closing the distance between the two of you as your lips crashed against Noah’s. It was so sudden, Noah stumbled a couple of steps towards you, almost causing you to lose balance.

He felt pathetic for how easily he kissed you back, not even giving a single thought of hesitation to it. His mind shot to Nick, only causing him to draw you closer to him. He surely owned himself the award for being the worst friend in the world, but all his common sense left his mind, when you pushed your tongue into his mouth.

It was rough how your lips clashed together. It almost felt violent. All the aggression and frustration from earlier filling the room between you two. It was not how he had imagined your first kiss to go, but he wouldn’t do shit to end whatever was going on.

He almost whined when your hands slipped under his shirt, your cool fingertips spreading goose bumps all over his body.

“It’s over with Nick.” You breathe hotly, before roughly kissing down his jaw. Noah was in such a haze that he almost didn’t get your words. “You need to fuck me, Noah.”

Holy fucking shit.

Noah felt like he had never been this hard in his entire life. But still, his common sense came back to him in the worst fucking moment.

He softly pushed you away to get a couple of inches between the two of you. His mouth opened, but no words came out, his mind still processing what was happening.

“What?” You harshly barked at him, running a hand through your messy hair.

“I-…” Noah began. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea to-…”

“Oh, suddenly you wanna act like you weren’t trying to get in my pants for the last couple of weeks?” You mocked him, your voice riddled with a mix of hurt, frustration and lust.

Something snapped in Noah. It felt like you had slapped him across the face with your words. For a second, he freezed in disbelief, before you were suddenly pushed against the door.

“Are you serious right now?” He spit in your face. “You mock me. Insult me. Tease me endlessly and then proceed to tell me how you fuck my best friend, and you are trying to tell me that I’m the one who wants to be fucked. Are you out of your goddamn pathetic mind?”

“What’s stopping you, Noah?” You snarled at him, but when his eyes darkened, you knew you made a mistake.

The next thing you knew was how your face pressed into your mattress, while Noah grabbed your waist harshly. He leaned over you, his hard member pressing onto your ass. “I’ll make you regret choosing him over me.”

Noah didn’t miss the red mark on your neck. He knew exactly who had left it there, but the thought about Nick just made his dick twitch once more. He quickly leaned down and sucked at the sensitive skin of your neck right next to where Nick had left his mark. After that, he stripped you out of your jeans with a swift motion, before getting rid of his shirt.

You flinched when he touched your clothed pussy, trying to contain yourself. “So… are you all talk or are you gonna fuck me?”

Noah grabbed your hips roughly. “You can bitch like you want. I haven’t even touched you and you’re already so fucking wet for me.”

Still leaned over you, he dragged his tongue along the shell of your ear. You let out a moan, pressing your ass against him. Careful but firm, he stopped your movement before shifting his weight on his knees again. “You’re so pretty.” He whispered so quietly; he wasn’t sure if you caught on to his words.

While keeping one hand on you, the other one fumbled with the waistband of his pants. It took him less than a second until his dick sprung free. You squirmed impatiently, when you felt his precum leak onto your ass.

“You’re one to talk about being needy-…” You wanted to mock him, but he interrupted you within a heartbeat. “Shut up.”

Noah involuntarily groaned loudly, when his hips jerked against your ass. A shiver went through his body, eyes screwing shut as he tried not to cum all over your ass. “Shit, shit, shit…” He breathed out sharply. You simply giggled.

His fingers hooked under the waistband of your panties and forcefully, he yanked them down to your mid-thigh. You breathed hotly in surprise, hands gripping the sheets of your bed tighter.

With a swift motion, he flipped you in your back, before leaning close to your face. He needed to see you.

“Please.” You whined, your hands gripping his tattooed arms desperately, while his gaze ran over Nick's hoodie that you were still wearing.

Noah took his dick into his hand and dragged it through the silky skin of your folds. When he rubbed over your clit, your hips jerked upwards involuntarily. You whined, slightly shaking at the sensation as he dragged his dick to your hole, lining up and slowly sinking inside with a heated groan.

“Shit.” You cried out, immediately wrapping your legs around his hips.

As he bottomed out, he grabbed your face, forcing you to look at him. “I’ve fucking had it with you. Look at you. Pathetically craving for my dick. You fucking slut.” He snarled at you with a thrust of his hips. “The least you can do is take it like a good girl.”

“Fuck you, Noah.” You cursed him out, your voice not more than a breath. You saw how Noah smiled at you, feeling how you clenched around him at his words, before leaning down, pressing his lips to yours as he slowly began to move.

His lips drowned out your sweet noises and he couldn’t help but feel like he belonged right where he was. He sped up, desperately trying to stay quiet. But god, you felt so good.

“Noah.” You moaned, scratching your nails down his back. “Don’t stop… fuck… Please, I-…”

He cut you off with another kiss, whining at the way his name sounded out of your mouth.

“God, I’m gonna cum.” He whined as his hips smashed into you. “I need to feel you cum around me.”

He felt how your legs tightened around him as a small pain shot through your core from the roughness of your actions.

“I’m-…” You stuttered out. “I’m on the pill. Cum inside me.” You pushed your ankles into him, not even giving him the chance to pull out. Not like he wanted to.

“Fuck!” Noah shouted out, his hips starting to stutter as he slowly started to spill inside of you. You felt his hot cum on the walls of your pussy as you breathed out his name. He didn’t stop, fucking you through your orgasm, until he collapsed on top of you, not being able to continue.

It was quiet after that. A silent agreement that he would stay the night, as he slowly pulled out of you, rolling on his back next to you.

As you curled up in his arms, he couldn’t help but feel the pride in his chest. It was everything he ever wanted. You were in his arms, with his cum inside of you, for once not talking about his best friend. While you fell asleep almost immediately, his mind was still racing. He was disturbed in his thought process when he saw his phone lighting up. When he looked at it after some time, he saw messages. Several messages. All from Nick.

He decided to ignore them...

dividers by @saradika-graphics

TAGLIST: @measuredingold @cncohshit @circle-with-me @jilliemiw86 @justeli6 @sitkowski @exitwoundsx

[minijenn]

That feel when you spend the past several days drawing for a forgotten niche AU you created years ago that you've just been having severe brainrot for lately and you have to get it out of your system somehow so you just... draw.

Anyway, Thorn in the Gut AU! Perhaps the most angsty little AU my brain ever did create back in the old UF days, I'm still quite fond of it. Its just chock full of drama, conflict, existential crisises, all that good stuff! And so, for those of you not in the know, here's a whole dump of info about it to go along with the art! (copied most of this from Discord so excuse any wierd formatting)

The basic gist of Thorn in the Gut spawns out of RMD (Rifts/Memories/Dimensions) and basically starts when Bill lands a practically fatal blow on Stepper (instead of cracking his Gem) and Steven, realizing both he and Dipper won't survive this, essentially "poofs" (lets his physical body disappear) and sacrifices his gem over to Dipper to keep him alive. Anyway, Dipper winds up back in Gravity Falls alone, much to the alarm and anger of the Crystal Gems especially when they realize Steven is basically dead (not them blaming a literal child who had no say in any of this). From there, the following ensues:

The Gems are A Wreck but they are still deeply attached to that gemstone (because of Steven and because of Rose) and they really don't know how to interact with Dipper now as a result; eventually, they force him to move up to the temple because he very quickly starts showing he has Steven's powers now but he can't control them because he is also A Wreck with survivor's guilt and grief over losing his boyfriend (did I mention this AU is Stedip? Well its Stedip) and his heavy emotions are making them wonky

They also watch him like a hawk because they think Steven could somehow return at any moment; they're also just like, hella impersonal with him; basically any sort of warmth or goodwill they had toward him has completely evaporated and they just view him as "the reason why steven is gone"

Garnet probably just... never talks to him like ever. Pearl is a sobbing wreck but is also surprisingly the most sympathetic towards Dipper out of the Gems (bc she knows about Rose and Bill's history to a certain extent and also knows thats at least in part why Bill attacked Stepper so viciously and why all this happened in the first place). Amethyst is just mad and probably prone to verbally lashing out at Dipper in frustration the most.

Stan and Ford are Fighting obvs bc Ford thinks Dipper staying with the Gems is for the best (also not Ford also kind of lowkey starting to negate his own nephew as a "fascinating breakthrough discovery" because of how scientifically impossible what's happened to him should be; Stan, meanwhile, is furious at how both Ford and the gems are acting, he's one of the few people still entirely in Dipper's coner, along with...

Mabel, who while mourning Steven herself wants to be there for her brother so badly but can't be because the Gems and Ford won't let her be, claiming that its for her own safety when really its just to keep her out of the way of a very delicate situation; even so, the twins still try to see each other as much as they can and comfort each other however possible (potential eventual fusion between the two?? maybe)

Connie is fucking mad, mad that Steven would sacrifice himself like this, mad that he'd sacrifice himself for Dipper, mad that Steven is gone and she can't do a damn thing about it. As a result, she distances herself from both the Pines and the Gems for a good long time to grieve on her own (but even after she comes back around, things remain hella tense between her and Dipper)

Other characters: Lapis is fuckin squicked the fuck out by what's happened here, because something something its comparable to permenant fusion, but even so she tries her best to support Dipper even though its difficult for her; Peridot is kind of lost in the shuffle of all this, like Mabel, so I feel like that's where she's lending most of her support; Pacifica? ehhh I mean this AU works under the assumption that Stedip is kind of the only currently canon MK ship so she probs wouldn't have much to do here 😛

Fucking forgot to talk about Dipper himself you know like he aint the damn focus character; so he's in Shambles, emotionally distraught for a number of reasons; his boyfriend is gone and he can only speak to him in his dreams (and those dreams are usually sweet… until one certain triangle starts showing up in them); amidst still reeling from losing Steven, the way the others are all treating him leads him into an existential crisis, because to the Gems, he's Steven, he's Rose, to Ford, he's an experiment, to Bill, he's an obstacle in the way of a prize, to the diamonds (if this continued on into UF2 which it could), he's Pink, and with all that in mind he truly starts to wonder if there's anything really left of Dipper at all

And the bad guys; Bill is furious, obvs. it doesn't take him long to start showing up during Steven and Dipper's little dream chats, causing all sorts of chaos and being just a general bastard all around; but he wants that gem, he has a deal with White to make good on after all, and he's determined to do whatever it takes to get it, even if he has to guilt trip Dipper into ripping it out of his stomach himself (which may or may not happen); as for the Diamonds I mean they'd probably just think this is "Pink" playing another one of their silly games, like they think about Steven so not a ton changes on that front? (even still, I summed up that this boy is in Danger in the span of time that would be UF2 in that one art)

Oh and of course, Steven's status. He is… aliveish? Of course, he doesn't have a physical body anymore, kind of gave that up entirely when he "poofed" bc he's half human. At first he's only able to communicate solely to Dipper through his dreams (and like Stan and Mabel, Steven is completely in Dipper's corner and is fucking mad as hell about how the Gems are acting towards him). And eventually, he makes that frustration known by using his possion powers to take control of Dipper (which Dipper allows, god who cares about past trauma, anything to make the Gems see reason) to tell the Gems off, but he isn't able to do that for very long or very frequently. I'd like to think Dipper can also sometimes "hear" Steven speaking to him through his thoughts when he's awake too. Basically, Steven is always with him ^_^

After getting steven's gem, Dipper maintains Stepper's hair color and skin hue :3 and he also starts wearing Steven's shirts bc fuckin gay grief compells him to wear his BF's clothes and then the Gems, fucking freaks that they are are like "nah you should keep wearing them" even when he doesn't want to anymore. Oh! and another thing, Dipper doesn't see himself when he sees his reflection in the mirror, he sees Stepper (represented in the art).

Since Dipper has to stay in Gravity Falls (because how the hell is he able to leave with all of these newfound manifesting magical powers), Mabel ends up going back home alone with a spare memory gun Ford gives her in tow. She remorsefully uses it to erase Aaron and Allison's memories of Dipper so they won't ask questions she isn't able to give answers to :3 Also, Dipper is unaware that this happens until some point in UF2 when Mabel breaks down and tells him. Suffice to say it basically ruins whatever is left of his relationship with Ford (not that it was good at that point anyway because well, Ford is basically using him as a lab rat)

Basically, without Steven around, most of the cast is just... fucking not acting right bc steven was basically their moral compass so they figure why even try anymore without him around (the gems and hell even dipper included, he makes some pretty questionable decisions in this AU himself)

Just, its all about identity, really, about how the way others around you treat you can impact how you view yourself for better or worse (in this case, worse); it's about loss of agency and how grief can drive people to act in some... pretty terrible ways.

Anyway yeah that's a Lot but its my current obsession in the In Between time of S1 and S2 and I figured I need to chase my bliss (bc how else will I cope with The Horrors if I don't put my favorite blorbos through Horrors of their own. Expect something to be written from this AU... eventually idk man probs not anytime in the immediate future tho lol it's just a silly fun little side thing. Anyway enjoy the Pain! ^_^

[zepskies]

Oooh here we go, diving right back into Angst City with some manic Cowboy Sheriff. 😅

A computer mouse flung against the wall and only missed Jenny’s head by an inch as the blonde peeked inside his office. The rest of the station had selected her to talk to the big boss, his outbursts even being heard from miles away. “You okay?” Jenny checked carefully. “I’m tryna find that stupid camera!”

*snorts* Oh, he's not handling this well, is he? Can't really blame him, considering a serial killer has the love of his life captured somewhere. 🥲

It wasn’t just about what he had done in there but also about he’d said. No wonder Diane had gotten so easily under his skin. She probably had heard every insecurity he had ever uttered. To you. And to imaginary Randy. How was he supposed to sleep in a place where he felt exploited, exposed, and unsafe?

Oh Goddd, it really is awful. It's like nowhere in his life is private or safe anymore for him. How could you ever feel comfortable in your own office again?

And if the roles were reversed, Beau wouldn’t either. He’d probably be even more annoyingly persistent than Randy.

loll I could definitely see that. 😅

“This isn’t a game, Randy! We need to find Y/N before it’s too late,” Beau argued furiously. They didn’t have time for petty competitions.

THANK YOU. At least one of them is taking this situation more seriously than their rivalry. But I honestly understand and sympathize with Randy too -- he's grasping at straws even though he knows he's losing his (former) wife emotionally already, even if he does manage to find the key to saving her before Beau does.

“‘Sides, why would I give up my favorite part? I’ve waited a while for this one. Killing her? While you two idiots watch helplessly and throw feces at each other like monkeys in a zoo? Gotta say, it’s better than killing twenty-four people combined. Ever since I met Deputy Popcorn, I’ve been actually craving a snack.” Upon Beau’s facial twitch, Diane leaned closer and whispered with a smirk,

Ok, just shoot this bitch out back and bury her under the sheriff's office. Honestly. 😤 (But the monkeys line did make me snort lol)

“About four years ago, she wrote a rather lengthy email to her sister Sophia in Seattle. She seemed very upset. Said there was a little something you wouldn’t give her. Ring any bells?”

Dammmmn how the hell is she getting this information?? But now I'm looking at Randy sideways even harder. 😒

I was on pins and needles throughout all of the reader's almost escape -- that bear trap actually made me physically grimace/wince!! Omg poor thing. But I loved how remembering Beau's advice helped her get out of the trap -- or at least the bear trap, if not Hal's "Benders"-themed game of hunt and chase. 😰

Pulling out their weapons, the two shared a look without speaking a word before entering the house, a feeling of familiarity rising in Beau’s chest. They were still partners, somewhere deep down.

Such a great moment between Beau and Randy here, and such great storytelling, especially as they actually start to work together to solve the mystery of what happened to the reader next. 👏🏽💜 I think one of the things I love most about your writing is you have such a great sense of story beats, creating tension and when to relieve it, and how to build character arcs that provide amazing twists, while also making exact sense when it all comes together, piece by piece.

Beau knew the question was mostly rhetorical, but true to himself, he still answered, “It’s actually pretty easy. Just press down on the springs, and the thing opens right up.” A smile formed on his lips as a memory popped back into his mind. “I told Y/N that once when we took a camping trip back in Houston. She probably didn’t remember it. I mean, honestly, I doubt she was even listening. I was kinda ramblin’, you know?”

Oh these two were made for her -- she was actually listening to his ramblings. 🥰💜

“Yeah, well, it’s true,” he said, his gaze cast downward as if he were confessing his sins to a priest. “She wanted kids, and I told her I didn’t. Neither of us was backing down. The night the cartel kidnapped me, we were supposed to have dinner and talk about it when I got home. Part of me already knew where it was headed.”

Remember earlier when I was talking about your amazing twists that make things click into place even more perfectly? Well THIS IS IT. 👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽 It makes things with her and Beau make even more sense now that we know she was likely leaving Randy anyway, no matter how much she loved him.

“Good thing you’re not her father,” Beau snapped. He could only muster so much patience. “You don’t really have a say in who she’s datin’.”

YES, Beau!! I get it, Randy's been dealt a shitty hand, but Beau's POV in this situation and conversation is so valid. 👌🏽 (Especially since she was likely leaving Randy anyway.)

Regardless, it seems like they had the honest man-to-man talk they needed to have about everything. But Wayne!!! That cliffhanger is...

Polaris – Chapter 12

Series Summary: When Beau Arlen moved to Montana, he left behind a past he wasn’t proud of. But when a series of murders requires the FBI’s help, Sheriff Arlen‘s ghosts come back to haunt him one by one. With a wrong turn waiting at every crossroads, it’s hard to make the right choices and find his way back home – back to you.

Pairing: Beau Arlen x FBI Agent!Reader

Warnings: 18+, a heavy dose of angst, kidnapping, violence, injuries, serial killers, death, an awful cliffhanger

Word Count: 6.8k

A/N: Happy New Year, everyone! 🥳 We jump straight into 2025 with an angsty banger 👀

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Tag List

Chapter 12: Through

On one of the sunniest mornings Helena had seen in recent days, the peaceful quiet of the early risers in the Sheriff’s Department was disturbed by one restless sheriff.

Beau was taking his office apart – bit by bit, nail by nail, panel by panel, brick by brick.

The search for you had gone on all night and yielded zero results. You were nowhere to be found. For all Beau knew, you could be dead by now and buried in the vast woods of Montana.

A computer mouse flung against the wall and only missed Jenny’s head by an inch as the blonde peeked inside his office. The rest of the station had selected her to talk to the big boss, his outbursts even being heard from miles away.

“You okay?” Jenny checked carefully.

“I’m tryna find that stupid camera!”

“Thought you already found that hours ago,” Jenny noted with a raised brow.

“Can’t be too careful…” the sheriff murmured, his focus landing on the pile of pens on his desk. The silver one – had that always been there? He picked it up. “Does this look normal to you?”

Jenny only offered a shrug.

“Never mind,” Beau muttered and reduced the pen down to its individual parts. Nothing. Just a plain, old pen.

“Did you get some sleep?”

“What d’you think?”

At five in the morning, Beau had promised Jenny he’d snooze for half an hour on the couch in his office. He did lie down, stared at the suspended ceiling tiles for about a minute, and then remembered the damn camera.

It wasn’t just about what he had done in there but also about he’d said. No wonder Diane had gotten so easily under his skin. She probably had heard every insecurity he had ever uttered. To you. And to imaginary Randy.

How was he supposed to sleep in a place where he felt exploited, exposed, and unsafe?

“Well, uh, I just wanted to tell you that Randy went into Interrogation Room 2 with Diane…”

“WHAT?!”

“Yeah…” Jenny exhaled a deep sigh and leaned against the door frame. “He said you’d deputized him and authorized it, but I had a feeling that wasn’t true.”

Beau ran a hand across his face, rubbing his beard.

Rule #3: She’s my wife. I get to decide how we proceed.

Rule #4: You’re not the boss of me.

“Well, I did deputize him,” Beau admitted. He had given his former partner a long leash, not expecting he’d bolt through the backyard.

“Beau…” Jenny clearly didn’t approve.

“He left me no choice, alright?!”

Well, no choice his guilt could deal with.

The sheriff then left his destroyed office and thundered into Interrogation Room 2 down the hall. Randy wouldn’t get to do this alone. Beau knew there was an ulterior motive – if only Randy saved you, he could also miraculously save his marriage. Randy was a persistent motherfucker. He wouldn’t give up.

And if the roles were reversed, Beau wouldn’t either. He’d probably be even more annoyingly persistent than Randy.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Beau charged in with steam coming out of his ears. For a moment, his anger was so focused on his friend, he didn’t even notice the rising smile on Diane’s lips.

“Good morning, Sheriff Arlen.” Even if Diane’s voice sounded melodious, to Beau it was still chalk on board. “Remodeling the office, are we?”

“You mind?” Randy prompted stand-offishly, glancing up at the sheriff. “Kinda in the middle of something here.”

“Outside. Now,” was all Beau said.

Defiantly and miffed by the authoritative tone, Randy followed him to the hall.

“Play nice, boys!” Diane’s voice echoed through before the door fell into its lock.

“What d’you think you’re doing? You can’t just talk to our prime suspect without my presence!” Beau roared.

Randy rolled his eyes back. “Didn’t know I needed a babysitter…”

“This isn’t a game, Randy! We need to find Y/N before it’s too late,” Beau argued furiously. They didn’t have time for petty competitions.

“Yeah, which is why I’m talking to the only lead we have! That bitch knows where she is,” Randy countered with an equal amount of fury.

“She’s not gonna tell you!”

Randy only shrugged – cocky in nature and completely unlike him. And Beau then realized something that had changed: His friend wouldn’t back down anymore and bend. Those days were over, and it was probably Beau’s own fault.

“We’ll see,” Randy said stubbornly, his hand wandering back to the door handle. “You comin’?”

Beau inhaled and exhaled a deep breath before nodding – and back into the lion’s den they went.

Diane welcomed them with a sneer. “All made up?”

“Tell us where Turner took her,” Randy demanded with a stern expression and firm voice.

If Randy wanted to play bad cop, the role of good cop fell to Beau by default. And although they had never ever played it that way before, Beau figured Randy carried more anger than even him right now. He might as well let him make good use of it.

“Can’t.” Diane twitched her shoulders. “Hal doesn’t tell me.”

“Oh, and we’re just supposed to believe that?” Beau lifted a brow in mock. “C’mon, Diane…”

“It’s true,” she said, smiling. “Call it an insurance policy in case one of you Neanderthals decides to go rogue on me – looking at you specifically, Sheriff Arlen. If you leave your own partner to die in a filthy warehouse, I don’t wanna know what you do to your enemies.” She then looked at Randy, whispering behind her palm, “You know, I think he did it on purpose.”

Beau clicked his tongue and snorted humorlessly. “Alright, Diane, you’ve had your fun. You’ve wreaked havoc… You’ve won, okay? Fair and square. Just give up your partner, tell us where Y/N is, and end this once and for all. Might even get a better deal if you do. Think about it. Murdering an FBI agent doesn’t look good in front of a judge and jury. We have iron-clad proof you killed at least five people in Texas. Capital murder, death penalty… See where I’m going with this?”

“Oh, I’ve thought about it, Sheriff. And I’ve told you: I don’t know where she is now,” Diane reiterated with the same infuriating smile. Her gray eyes then wandered to a wall clock behind the men. “At least not yet.”

Randy and Beau both followed her gaze and stared at that same clock. Their eyes widened.

“Then when?” Randy prompted.

“Don’t worry. You’ll see her soon.” Diane smirked. “If she makes it out alive, she can tell you in person she’s choosing the rugged sheriff here over you, Detective Nichols.”

Randy’s jaw tightened, his fists clenching and unclenching under the metal table.

“I gave her a fighting chance.”

“Oh, you mean like the others?” Beau had known from the start that it would be useless talking to her.

“They all could’ve gotten out,” said Diane as if she blamed the victims for not being smarter and more durable. “‘Sides, why would I give up my favorite part? I’ve waited a while for this one. Killing her? While you two idiots watch helplessly and throw feces at each other like monkeys in a zoo? Gotta say, it’s better than killing twenty-four people combined. Ever since I met Deputy Popcorn, I’ve been actually craving a snack.” Upon Beau’s facial twitch, Diane leaned closer and whispered with a smirk, “Yeah, I know about the cute little nicknames for your deputies too, Sheriff. I wonder how many bugs you’ve found yet in your office. Sure it can’t be all of them. Maybe I’ve bugged the whole station. Who’s to say? Have you checked your trailer yet? The lovely agent’s motel room? No?”

Beau couldn’t pinpoint the exact feeling that clutched his heart and twisted it like a boa constrictor. Pain, fear, anger, sadness – a deadly cocktail for anyone. Was this throbbing sting in his chest what a heart attack felt like? Only recently, he’d read an article in the paper about a guy his age who just dropped dead. Was this it for him?

Would it mean he'd get to see you again, though?

“Enough of that!”

Randy’s voice rang in his ears, but Beau couldn’t refocus. He needed fresh air to breathe, his lungs dried up and clinging to every molecule like he’d been deprived of oxygen for days. The small room felt suddenly suffocating as the monster across from him sneered joyfully.

“Look, I don’t know if you’re saying all that horseshit ‘cause you wanna hurt him or me,” Randy said, his voice laced with a darkness Beau had never seen before.

“Little bit of both,” Diane teased with a shrug.

“Yeah, well, I don’t care either way,” Randy huffed, the deep creases in his brow casting threatening shadows on his face. “Do your worst to me or him. Hell, burn us at the stake if it makes you feel any better, sweetheart, but all I wanna know is where that bunker is. Where is she? Your beef’s clearly with us. Men, right? You know she doesn’t deserve this. Just let her go.”

Diane seemed unamused by the suggestion, leaning back in the metal chair. “You’re right. She doesn’t deserve this. I actually like her. She reminds me of me. But you two did this to her. It’s out of my hands at this point. You don’t deserve her, sheriff,” she said and looked at Beau before her cold eyes shifted to Randy. “Neither do you, detective. I know a lot of things – and not just about the sheriff here. I know what you did to her, too.”

Randy forced a tight smile. “You’re bluffing. I didn’t do anything.”

“Am I?” Diane quirked a brow and then sent him an innocent smile. “About four years ago, she wrote a rather lengthy email to her sister Sophia in Seattle. She seemed very upset. Said there was a little something you wouldn’t give her. Ring any bells?”

With a thick swallow and a glare swimming in his hazel eyes, Randy nodded. “We’re done here.”

Diane let out a long, suspenseful sigh, not bothering to engage further. Her icy heart wouldn’t melt. Her eyes flickered around the bleak, depressing room. “I miss windows. Haven’t seen the outside for days.”

“Yeah, and you ain’t gonna,” Beau huffed. He had quietly listened, his heart rate slowing down as his head started spinning with questions. You had never told him anything. He had never asked. It had been an unspoken rule to not talk about your marriage. Beau always figured knowing too much would only make it worse.

“Too bad. I always liked the autumn sunsets. When it gets dark sooner…” Diane then stretched out her neck. “Anyways, nice chatting with you boys, but it’s time for my beauty nap now. Which one of you two cowboys is gonna accompany me back to my cell, hm?”

The men shared a look and then wordlessly rose, leaving the room. In the safety of the hallway, Beau ran a hand over his face and took his first deep breath.

Air. Lungs. Brain. Without toxicity, he could finally think straight again.

“Well, this was pointless and a waste of our time. Happy now?” Beau huffed with his newfound lung capacity.

But Randy’s brow was furrowed. He was thinking. “Actually, yeah… Didn’t you hear what she said?”

“Yeah, bunch of narcissistic bullshit. She’s not gonna tell us where Y/N is,” Beau muttered bitterly. If possible, he wished to never converse with that psychotic witch again. There was only so much he could handle before snapping her neck.

“She said that she doesn’t know where Y/N is now,” Randy pointed out. “Maybe she wasn’t lying. Maybe Y/N’s not in the bunker yet. Turner might keep her somewhere else and wait till he can move her.”

“At sundown,” Beau mused, Diane’s words haunting his mind. “He’ll move her when it’s dark.”

“Which means we still have a couple hours to find her,” Randy finished the thought.

“Popcorn!” Beau yelled down the hallway. The sheriff found himself in better spirits. He hadn’t used a silly name for his most loyal deputy in days, although it ached a tiny bit to say it now. “Any properties in Newton’s name?”

“Yes, sir, several,” Mo replied.

“I need a list of all in the area. Get a team together and search ‘em. One by one,” Beau ordered. “Warehouses, cabins… Take it all apart. I don’t care.”

“And also see if any properties are in Hal Turner’s name and add them to the list,” Randy suggested.

Poppernak shot Beau a look, and only when the latter gave his agreement, did the deputy nod. “Yes, Sheriff Arlen.”

The obnoxiously loud sound of birds woke you from a deep slumber. Groggily, you pried your eyes open and found the first few beams of sunlight warming your face. For a peaceful moment of dazed bliss, you had no clue where you were or how you got here.

There was a thumping, searing pain in your skull, hammering away at your sanity like the ticks of a clock. Your neck and shoulders hurt from tension till you realized you were bound to an old wooden chair, a harsh and creaking surface underneath you. Your behind felt both sore and numb.

Glancing around the room, you noticed you were in the living quarters of a small cabin. A fireplace sat to your right. Above it, a cuckoo clock that showed shortly past noon, and you realized that must’ve produced the bird noise that woke you. The stinging sunlight reached your eyes and filled you with hope.

Hal Turner hadn’t locked you into a bunker yet.

“You’re awake. Good.” Turner entered the room with a bottle of water and a sandwich, throwing the items unceremoniously onto your lap. “You need to eat. We’ll leave soon.”

“Where are we going?”

“Where they all went,” he said and came up behind you. Turner wasn’t a man of tall stature. Small, middle-aged, nervous. Non-threatening.

Diane’s little ant.

He cut your ties, and you could tell his hands were shaking. They didn’t treat the others like that. Entertaining a victim had never been his job before.

Sedated, dumped, marooned.

That had been the pattern, and you hoped this little off-course adventure would pay off with your freedom. Your gaze drifted down to a lonely brown belt buckle.

Unarmed.

With free hands and Turner still vulnerably behind you, your arms shot up and wrapped around his neck. Fortunately, he wasn’t as heavy as Beau in training when you jolted him forward, jumped up, and rammed his face straight into your knee.

Unconscious for the moment, Turner tumbled to the ground, and you sprinted through the front door. You hoped it would give you enough time to find an exit.

But all you found was a vast sea of trees – towering pines that reached heavenward with no neighboring houses or roads in sight.

There was a shed to your left. Tools. You needed weapons.

And, most of all, you needed more goddamn time to think your way out of this one.

It wasn’t long till you heard the front door of the cabin slam open, heavy and angry footsteps aimlessly searching before they slowly circled closer to the shed.

Fortunately, your little hide-out had proved itself useful – and fully stocked. Turner had arranged his tools in a neatly organized manner. Nothing seemed to be out of place, screwdrivers hanging on the wall from small to big, pliers, drills, hacksaws… Your weapons of choice, however, fell on a hammer and the heaviest, biggest wrench.

Lurking behind the small barn door, you lay in wait till the old door creaked open and Hal Turner walked through. He only blinked at you wide-eyed before your first hit with the wrench landed across his right cheek. It was hard enough for blood to spew out of his mouth, and as he tumbled forward, you delivered your second blow – the hammer, this time, slamming against the back of his head.

Dropping the tools, you decided to take your chances and make a run through the woods for it. You still had a few fleeting hours till dark. If you just kept going, maybe you’d make it to a road or a town somewhere before you froze to death.

What a great outlook…

However, you didn’t even get farther than a few yards from the house before a sharp pain seared from your ankle throughout your entire body. Falling harshly and bracing yourself on the cold, wet leaves, you screamed out and looked down at the culprit – a bear trap.

Well, points for Hufflepuff!

Apparently, you had underestimated Turner. Ahead of you, you also spied some tripwire. Great. This place was a giant death trap – and you had already hated the woods before all of this.

Getting back onto your feet was not only hindered by the giant claws in your flesh but also the iron chain attached to the trap that tethered you to the ground. So, with your freezing hands, you dug out the metal stake that served as your anchor.

Then, the fucking bear trap – you knew this one would hurt like a son of a bitch. Carefully, you inspected the oozing wound, the razor sharp edges deeply clutching your skin at your lower calf and ankle. For a moment, you even swore you could feel the tips of their pointed teeth drilling into your bone. You tried to pry them apart with your hands but gave up on that idea rather quickly once the jaws cut your fingers.

Glancing at the shed, you saw the door was still ajar. It was quiet in there. Either Hal Turner was gone, solely unconscious, or currently bleeding to death. The shed was your Schrödinger’s cat. As long as you didn’t know which one it was, you still had time.

Taking several deep breaths, you closed your eyes and remembered the trip you took with Beau when you were back in Houston. The two of you drove camping in Piney Woods. For a few days, you were gone and unknown to everyone around you. You could just be you and him. No one had to hide anything. No one had to feel guilty. In those short days, you realized you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him.

“Did you know bear traps are actually pretty easy to get out of?” Beau babbles a random fact in his usual manner when neither of you has said anything in a minute. He glances at you, a happy smile on his face as he intertwines his fingers with yours during a stroll through the green and lush forest.

“Huh.”

“Yeah, all you gotta do is not panic, get up on your feet, and press your weight down on the springs at the bottom. Just pops open and you can pull your leg out,” he explains with a popping sound, turning the little lesson into a show-and-tell.

“Don’t panic…” you mumbled to yourself and sat up. “Get up…” With a strained groan and your palms supportively on the ground, you heaved yourself to your feet. You winced as you put pressure on your injured leg and, therefore, tried to shift your weight to your good one. The main problem was the next step: “Press down.”

Mentally, you braced yourself before you slowly started to put pressure on the leg again. The jaws moved and wiggled in your flesh, but the pain was too much too bear. You bit down on your tongue as tears strangled your eyes.

Alright, next try.

If slow was too painful, then maybe the bandaid method was the way to go. Quick and painless, as they say. You inhaled and exhaled through your nose as you raised your foot a few inches above ground, making sure the springs would hit the uneven surface properly. Then, you kicked down.

The trap sprung open, you pulled your foot out, and released a primal scream that echoed through the quiet woods, surely disturbing whatever lived there.

And then, suddenly, Hal Turner stood in front of you with a shovel.

Diane’s listed properties came up empty. There was still no sign of you. Turner, on the other hand, had only booked a motel room in his name but hadn’t been seen there in weeks. So, Beau figured he had to be staying somewhere if he wasn’t sleeping in his room.

At four o’clock, the sheriff was close to a breakdown when all leads petered out and the daylight was almost gone. But then Cassie and Denise stormed the station, both out of breath, and brought forth a document that showed a property north of Helena in the name of a Diane Turner. It was a remote cabin in the middle of the woods, which also happened to be close to the location where the ambulance had picked up Randy.

Ding, ding, ding!

Beau gathered the whole cavalry and raced there as fast as he could. By the time he was ten minutes out, the sky had grown dark, the woods pitch-black around him. Switching on the Jeep’s headlights only added to the uneasiness in his stomach. His passenger was quiet next to him, but Beau could tell how worried Randy was by the way his left leg anxiously drummed against the floor mat.

Both of them thought it was too late to save you.

An access road, all dirt, led up behind the cabin, only making it a short hike. Turner’s vehicle had been parked at the fork where it reached pavement. They seemed to be on the right track. After all, if Turner was here, then hopefully so were you.

Beau and Randy were the first to arrive, the cabin inside dark without a single light on, not even a candle burning in the smudged windows. Carefully, the men stepped on the porch, the property around them quiet and undisturbed, but the front door was an inch ajar. Pulling out their weapons, the two shared a look without speaking a word before entering the house, a feeling of familiarity rising in Beau’s chest.

They were still partners, somewhere deep down.

The floorboards creaked under Beau’s boots as he treaded down the hallway. The cabin was small, only consisting of one bedroom, a living area, a kitchen and bath. While the men checked each room, Beau already knew you weren’t here anymore – if you’d ever been here to begin with. Maybe Diane had sent them on a wild goose-chase, another sick game created by the mind of psychopath, while you had been locked in a bunker all along, waiting for him to find you.

How much air did you still have left? Would he get to you in time?

“Beau!”

His partner’s voice drew him from the bedroom to the living space, his mind still rattling with the unspoken fear of losing you. His green eyes then focused on the beam of Randy’s flashlight as it shone on a wooden chair in the middle of the room, a set of cut plastic ties on the floor next to it. There was also an uneaten sandwich and an unopened bottle of water scattered on the ground.

And then, there were the trails, the little drops, and the sheer pools of blood everywhere that made his gut churn. Was it all yours?

“We need to get forensics here,” Beau said with a thick swallow, already pulling out his phone to call Jenny.

“That’s a lot of blood,” Randy said with a lump in his throat, his eyes transfixed on the little red pond by the tips of his feet. And although it was dark, Beau could see the color drain from his partner’s face.

“I know.” Beau bobbed his head quietly, gently clasping his friend’s shoulder as he held his phone to his ear.

The sheriff then informed Jenny of their findings, telling her to hurry any lab results along. The sooner they knew whose blood it was, the better. As he hung up, he noticed Randy following a trail of blood to the door, leading further outside. He shone his flashlight through the dense foliage before it landed on a little working shed to the right.

As Randy creaked the door of the shed open, with Beau behind him, both thought there was a high probability they’d stumble upon a body in there – if not two.

Instead, the shed was disappointingly empty.

Beau whistled lowly as the light hit the neatly arranged wall of tools. “Well, that’s some freak level organization.”

But Randy’s brow furrowed as his light landed on the ground behind the door. “There’s a hammer and wrench on the ground.” He knelt down to inspect it closer. “Got blood on it. Lot of it.”

Beau chuckled lightly and ran a palm over his face to keep the stinging tears of hope inside, which only confused Randy.

“What’s so funny? Y/N might be dead,” Randy said sourly.

“That’s not Turner’s doing,” Beau argued and gestured at the tools on the ground, his heart flooding with a tiny bit of relief. “Look at the wall. Why would he kill her with tools? It’s way too bloody. Guy like this can’t handle the mess. He had a perfectly fine gun. Would’ve been way cleaner if he wanted to.”

“So, you think this was Y/N?” Randy thought for a moment before nodding. “The ties inside were cut. The food and water on the floor… Maybe he cut her loose and she took advantage of it? I mean, it does sound like her.”

“Yeah…” Beau’s eyes then musingly drifted back to the wall. “Is there a screwdriver on the ground somewhere? There’s one missing here.”

“Nope, nothing on the ground,” Randy replied once his flashlight search was complete. “You think she took it with her?”

“Let’s hope so…”

“But if Y/N managed to overpower Turner, why isn’t she here? And where’s Turner? And if it happened out here, why is there so much blood inside?”

Beau licked his chapped lips, his brow returning to their initially creased position. “Maybe she didn’t take him out for good.”

“You thinkin’ she knocked him out and escaped?”

“Yeah, and then Turner woke up, went back into the house before taking off after her through those woods,” Beau shared his theory. It would explain the vast amounts of blood inside.

“So, your theory is she’s lost and being hunted?” Randy cocked a brow.

Beau only offered him a shrug. “Best possible scenario.”

“Great.” Randy scoffed. “What’s the worst possible scenario then?”

Beau’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “I think we both know.” Licking his lips, he patted Randy’s shoulder. “But let’s not think about the worst right now. I’ll get a team going to search these woods. We’ll find her. You’re not losing her again, alright?”

Randy could only nod and hope, but a little tug on his heart told him something different as he glanced at his former friend.

“It’s been three hours,” Randy huffed frustratedly as they passed the same street sign to Helena down the mountain once more, driving up and down the roads around the cabin in an endless loop, hoping and praying a miracle would happen. “Don’t you think we would’ve found her by now? If she’s hurt and inside those woods, we should be in there looking for her.”

Beau passed another sigh between his lips. There had been three hours of that, too. Patience was a not only an eight-letter word but a bitch as well.

“Neither of us is any help there. We don’t know those woods. You don’t even a phone, Randy,” Beau said with a bit more firmness in his voice, causing his partner’s frown to deepen. Saved by the bell, Beau’s phone chimed in his pocket with Jenny’s angelic name popping up on the screen. He pulled over on the side of the road before picking up.

“What you got? Uh-huh… You sure? What did they say about the cabin? Okay… Both of ‘em? How far? Which direction? Alright… We’re close. Driving back up there now.”

Randy held his breath till Beau hung up, trying to guess the content of the phone call by the various facial expressions of the sheriff. Then, he asked, “Good news or bad news?”

“Hard to say,” Beau replied, his eyes fixed on his hands gripping the steering wheel. He swallowed the lump in his throat, gave himself an encouraging nod, and started the engine, trying to sink every bad theory that surfaced in his mind. “Forensics came back. Our theory was partially correct. The blood inside the cabin was mostly Turner’s.”

Randy raised a brow, his heartbeat thrumming in his ears. “Mostly?”

“Evidence points to her not escaping. Turner might have gotten to her before she could even leave the property. They found a bear trap with her blood on it,” Beau explained slowly, his grip on the wheel tightening. “Dogs picked up a trail, leading into the woods. Forensics confirmed both of their blood on that trail.”

“Doesn’t mean anything. He could’ve followed her. She still could’ve escaped,” Randy replied and knew full well it was only sugarcoating the truth swimming in the lower pits of his belly.

“Could’ve…” Beau nodded and swallowed heavily. “But then again, if she did manage to escape, how did her blood end up inside the cabin?”

Defeated, Randy licked his lips, expelling a humorless chuckle. “Yeah, guess my hopes are little too high. I mean, how the hell would you get out of a bear trap?”

Beau knew the question was mostly rhetorical, but true to himself, he still answered, “It’s actually pretty easy. Just press down on the springs, and the thing opens right up.” A smile formed on his lips as a memory popped back into his mind. “I told Y/N that once when we took a camping trip back in Houston. She probably didn’t remember it. I mean, honestly, I doubt she was even listening. I was kinda ramblin’, you know?”

“Uh-huh. I remember. I’ve spent a lot of time with you…” Randy smacked his lips, fingers tapping his thigh. “You guys went on a trip together?”

Beau’s mouth opened on reflex, but he stopped himself from replying, shooting a scrutinizing look at his partner. “Yeah, uh, just the one, really. Shoulda been more…”

Regrets seeped to the surface. If Beau had known he had only a finite amount of time with you, he would’ve enjoyed and appreciated every last second of it. He should’ve spent less time in his head. He should’ve taken you out on more dates. He should’ve been the best he could be. Instead, he wasted so much time and couldn’t even remember why in retrospect.

“What makes you say that?” Randy’s question rang both with curiosity and pain. His brown eyes stared stubbornly ahead and focused on the dark road.

Beau blew a long sigh. “Well, I wasn’t always the best–,” he hesitated a moment before saying the word, “–boyfriend, I guess.”

If Randy was upset by the term, he didn’t let it show. Maybe he was sticking to Rule #2. He quirked a brow and glanced at Beau in the driver’s seat. “So, on top of stealing my wife, you’re telling me you didn’t even treat her right?”

“Guess so,” Beau admitted quietly, poking the inside of his cheeks with his tongue and ignoring the subtle jab. “And I didn’t treat her badly, by the way. Just could’ve tried harder. Felt guilty because she was your-, well, you know… And the divorce got kinda messy, too. I just wanted to stay clear of complications.”

Exasperated, Randy scoffed, shaking his head. “This is not really making me want to give you my blessing…”

Beau huffed a chuckle. “Didn’t know that was an option.”

“Well, it’s not. You don’t deserve her.” Randy clicked his tongue, pensively bobbing his head. He then finally admitted, the words sounding almost sour, “Neither do I. You might be as big of an idiot as me.”

Beau’s eyes widened in surprise, his focus briefly swaying from the road. “What d’you mean? You guys were perfect together. Is this about what Newton said?”

Randy’s lips curved into a bitter smile. “Y/N never told you?”

“Told me what?”

Randy chewed on his lower lip before pushing out the words that had plagued him for three years. “She wanted to leave me.”

Beau shook his head. “Nah, I don’t buy it. She loved you. You should’ve seen her after she thought you’d died.”

Randy inhaled sharply, his head spinning with regret and heart filling with hope. For the past years, he had wondered if he’d ever get another chance to fix things with you.

“Yeah, well, it’s true,” he said, his gaze cast downward as if he were confessing his sins to a priest. “She wanted kids, and I told her I didn’t. Neither of us was backing down. The night the cartel kidnapped me, we were supposed to have dinner and talk about it when I got home. Part of me already knew where it was headed.”

Beau listened and nodded. He remembered the set dinner table, the lovingly prepared food, the candles – it didn’t seem like something one would do if they planned on leaving.

“No, I don’t think she would’ve left you,” Beau noted, although his heart stung when he said it out loud.

“I overheard her asking Carla for a divorce lawyer. Pretty sure she was,” Randy retorted. “Seems silly now. She was already out of my league. I should’ve just given her what she wanted. I don’t even know why I didn’t. I should’ve just shut up and been grateful.”

“That’s what I would’ve told you to do,” Beau muttered, his brain trying to keep track and process everything. Why had you never told him any of this? And more importantly: “Why have you never told me?”

“Guess I was embarrassed.” Randy shrugged. “And I already knew what you would’ve said.”

Secretly amused, Beau cocked a brow. “What? That you’re an idiot?”

“Exactly.”

“And Carla knew?”

“I guess.” Randy gave another shrug of his shoulders. “I mean, they talked all the time. Well, mostly it was Carla complaining about you, but still…”

Beau’s brow furrowed into deep lines. He should’ve been more surprised than he was. The only thing that really baffled him was the fact you had still agreed to date him after hearing all of that. What else didn’t he know?

“I thought they met once a week for book club?”

Randy shot him a pitying look. “Dude, there was no book club. Only three bottles of wine.” He then exhaled a long sigh, stretching back into his seat. “Maybe it’s good she didn’t pick anyone. She deserves someone who can give her what she wants.”

“What makes you think I can’t?” A little offended, Beau raised his brow. “You know, when she came back a few weeks ago, I swore I’d make things right. I wouldn’t let her go this time.”

But Beau broke that promise. He pushed you away to stay clear of complications. His heart twinged.

“And you think she wanted to live in a trailer in the woods of Montana?”

“Doesn’t matter. I would’ve given her anything she wanted. No questions asked,” Beau stated simply. “I was happy when I was with her. Didn’t matter where we were or what we were doing.”

“So, what? You planned on marrying her? Kids?”

Beau twitched his shoulders, his eyes not drifting from the street. If he glanced at Randy only for a beat, he couldn’t ignore his friend’s reactions any longer and still remain honest. “We never talked about it, but... If that’s what she wants, then yeah. Don’t even have to think about it. You really were an idiot, you know?”

“I know that. Thank you,” Randy huffed sarcastically and rolled his eyes. “Still not getting my blessing, though.”

“Good thing you’re not her father,” Beau snapped. He could only muster so much patience. “You don’t really have a say in who she’s datin’.”

“You’re one to talk.” Randy scoffed mockingly. “I met your friend Denise at the station. We had a long chat. She almost talks as much as you. Sounded like you tried to have a say in who Carla should marry. Little hypocritical, don’t you think?”

“That’s different,” Beau retorted defensively. “We have a kid together. Whoever Carla’s seeing is also gonna be in Emily’s life.”

“So, you don’t even care a little about Carla’s well-being? ‘Cause Denise said you killed her new husband,” Randy countered cleverly.

“Of course I care,” Beau admitted frustratedly. What did Randy want to hear? That he was right about everything? Well, except one thing: “And I didn’t kill Avery, by the way. Might have been slightly responsible for his death, sure, but I didn’t kill the idiot.”

“Seems to be a pattern for you. Maybe Diane was right,” Randy muttered wryly.

Beau licked his lips and sighed. “Listen, I know that devil woman is good at getting into someone’s head, but you gotta believe me, man. I did not leave you to die. If I had known–”

“Whoa, I know,” Randy interrupted him with an amused chuckle and two placating hands. “I was just joking. I knew you didn’t hand me over to the cartel on purpose in some evil ploy to get with my wife. That would be insane.”

Beau gave a nod, accepting his answer with relief. “Well, good.”

“Look, I’m not delusional, contrary to what everyone’s thinking. I know things happened while I was away,” Randy admitted. “I figured she had moved on. For three years, I actually hoped she did. I wanted her to be happy. Just didn’t think it be you, I guess. Probably shouldn’t have been surprised, though. I kinda knew you always liked her. Just didn’t think any more of it, you know?”

“And there wasn’t more, alright? I promise,” Beau assured him, his cheeks reddening from embarrassment. He never thought Randy would’ve suspected anything – not that there really ever was anything. But had his tiny crush really been that obvious? “One of those things, you know? Just ‘cause I find Michelle Rodriguez attractive doesn’t mean I seriously expect to date her. I didn’t know it was more than that till I spent some time with her.”

“Good to know,” was all Randy said, crossing his arms with an uncomfortable clear of his throat. “Definitely surprised Y/N likes you, though. She always had a pretty low opinion of you. Said you were doing shitty police work and I should be more careful. Guess she was right..." Beau shot him a darkened look but refrained from taking the bait. Randy pursed his lips. "Look, I know I’m a pain in your ass right now. You’d probably love to get rid of me.”

“Well, hey, that’s not–”

“What, true?” Knowingly, Randy lifted a brow. “I would if I were you.”

Beau only nodded, not admitting out loud the thought had certainly crossed his mind. “So, what are you thinking now?”

“Still want her to be happy,” Randy said quietly.

All of a sudden, Beau then slammed on the brakes, both men jolting forward into their seatbelts. A loud thud echoed through the car as something heavy hit the Jeep’s hood. For a moment, the sheriff thought he’d run into a deer before blinking his eyes at the bloodied and muddied image of Hal Turner.

“What the hell?!”

Turner was in rough shape, pantingly and deliriously stumbling around the car and onto the road, shielding his eyes from the blinding headlights with his palm. Blood dripped from various places from his head and body before Beau’s eyes narrowed on the metal tool stuck inside his neck.

“Guess we found our missing screwdriver,” Randy noted as the two men jumped out of the car, guns drawn.

“Where is she, Turner?” Beau prompted sternly, his finger itching to pull the trigger for everything he’d done to you. But knowing where you were was more important than a vendetta. Turner could only speak while he was alive.

And the man seemed to know it, too. Before the sheriff could call for back-up and an ambulance, Turner sneered and raised a hand, gripping the screwdriver tightly.

“No, don’t!”

Beau’s plea came too late. Hal Turner pulled the makeshift weapon out of his throat and collapsed to the ground, bleeding out within seconds.

Randy’s fingers landed on the man’s pulse point. He glanced up at his partner with a shake of his head. “He’s gone.”

Throwing his gun angrily into the rustling brushes, Beau gripped his temples and screamed into the void of the dark woods. Desperation clawed on his mind and heart. The fear of losing you for good took him prisoner. With labored breaths, he squeezed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger and rubbed his tired eyes. Turner had been his last lead. He knew more wouldn’t be coming.

What now?

A sanctimonious beep of his phone drew his attention. A small part of him prayed it was Jenny, informing him you’d emerged a few miles up the road – bloody like Turner, but otherwise fine. Alive.

But his green eyes only found an email and darkened at the sender’s name. “Diane just sent me a link.”

Randy, caught in his own spiral, suddenly glanced up. “To what?”

“Livestream.”

Chapter 13: Sure And Certain

Another cliffhanger, and it looks like Diane's still having the last laugh 🙈

What did you think of this part? Were you surprised by Randy's revelation? He might've changed his mind on a few things 😉

See ya next week for the freaking finale 🤍

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[guttedwhxre]

─ 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 ❞ multiple slashers

UNDER THE CUT: bo sinclair, michael myers, billy loomis & stu macher

tw: reader death ment, violence, torture ment

author's note: photo courtesy of @/pngsnail <3 also, hi everyone! i missed you, did you miss me?

michael is one of the most particular of the slashers, and dating him means you must be able to handle his peculiarities. this requires patience and resilience to do so, losing your temper would only result in pissing him off. michael won’t have quarter for being patronized and demeaned, not anymore. a pissed off michael typically means a deadly michael — but your death won’t be immediate. he’ll toy with you, gradually making your life worse and worse. he’ll allow you to keep blowing up at him, snap at him, until one night michael ends it all, for good. as you look up at him while you bleed out on the floor, cursing him under your breath, he’ll slowly don his mask, and leave you there without a second thought. 

while he won’t allow a bad temper, or disrespect of any kind, michael is surprisingly lenient about you boundaries. as long as you’re firm, and gentle he’ll let it slide. in fact, he almost encourages it. in his own, twisted way. again, michael will push you in small ways until something is done about it. here you can blow up, or collect yourself and gently, yet firmly tell him what he’s done wrong and ask him to stop. that’s only the first part however, as you have to consistently keep these boundaries, or michael will push, push, and keep pushing. 

don’t let him threaten you. he’s not actually trying to kill you when he holds his blade to your neck, no, just testing you. even if you’re into that, you have to be able to differentiate between play time, and a test. once you know that’s he’s testing you, cut him off there. ask that he doesn’t put his knife to you outside of play time, and he’ll slowly drop the knife from your neck, tracing it down your front as he tries to initiate play. however, if you let him press the cold steel into your neck, sit still as his gaze rests on his knife and your supple flesh - he’ll stop there, for now. then another day, when he comes home, he’ll “accidentally” cut you with his knife, watch as you rush around to clean and cover up the wound, gently asking him to be more careful next time. more little “accidents” will follow, each one more life-threatening than the last, and it’ll become more apparent that michael is toying with you. he just wants to see what will happen! just because you let him each time, he wants to see your breaking point. if that ends in your death, well, michael still got what he wanted. to see you break. 

to be clear, michael isn’t very picky about what kind of person you are. just stay consistent, keep your boundaries and make them clear, don’t be a pushover, then you and michael will be very happy together.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

bo is a simple man. at least, that’s how he’d describe himself. he describes his ideal mate as the perfect house-spouse kind — docile, quiet, stays out of the way. but that is far from the truth. someone who submits with no questions asked, all of the time, would bore him. nah, bo sinclair needs someone to match his temper, his fire, not take any of his bullshit. when he blows up, shouts, you need to be able to stand your ground, and sometimes shout right back. it surprises him being challenged, excites him, even. go ahead baby, put him in his place. 

like with michael, constantly shouting and losing your temper at bo wouldn’t be the best idea. it wouldn’t result in your death, just a constant, toxic cycle of fighting and making up. it’s not fun, nor is it worth the exhaustion. you have to be able to know when to fight fire with fire, and when to back down and let bo do his thing. 

bo, to be totally honest, isn’t the kindest guy. he puts on a front for the tourists, sure, but that’s just that – a facade. to be with bo sinclair, you have to have tough skin. he’ll throw more than one insensitive comment your way, about your hair that day, your complexion, hell your weight, even if it’s not intentional. he’s never had to hold his tongue before, why would he now? you’ve gotta stand up for yourself, or else the comments will keep coming, and probably worsen over time. 

all of the sinclair brothers have been through a lot, and it’s affected them in different ways. but for all of them, bo especially, empathy will go a long, long way. take into consideration why he lashes out the way he does and be able to understand why. you don’t have to excuse his actions, just be able to tolerate them, and of course — stand up for yourself. 

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

with billy and stu, you’ve gotta be able to take a joke. a lot of jokes, at that. at your expense, the expense of others, billy and stu have absolutely NO filter and that won’t change when you’re around. be happy it doesn’t! it means they trust you. billy is meaner than stu by a longshot, so be prepared for them to take shots at you. to get them to stop, or at the very least let up a little, go at them right back! joke back or tell them to fuck off, either works. just avoid the topic of mommy issues unless you want a knife to your neck in a not fun way. 

you don’t need something super special to make them interested in you — just be you. do your own thing, mind your own business, be content with yourself. that kind of casual confidence is enthralling, and if one of them picks up on it, trust me, the other will know shortly after. 

gotta be okay with a little kick-back every once in a while — stu likes to party and billy is just fine tagging along, so that means you have to be too! stick to one of them the whole party if you need, though i don’t suggest it as it can very well lead to semi-public sex. unless, sweet thing, that’s exactly what you’re looking for — then be my guest!

stu is handsy. incredibly so. he needs to touch you often, so you’ve gotta be okay with physical contact frequently. he can’t help it! you’re so precious and touchable it makes his heart melt (and his cock hard). if you say no one too many times he’ll tattle on you to billy, which nobody wants — least of all you. billy is fiercely protective of both of you, and stu knows how spoiled he is. he will surely use that to his advantage, even if it’s to your detriment. 

billy often takes the lead when it comes to the three of you, and stu gives up control willingly, eagerly even. you don’t have to be as excited about it as stu is, but it’s best to hand control over day to day decisions to billy. he gets a little bitchy if you don’t, and no one wants a bitchy billy. just whisper to him that he knows best, that’s he’s so strong and capable…and then maybe you can slip a little suggestion in, and he’ll take it. since you’ve been so good…so yes, they’re both very susceptible to seduction.

billy and stu just want you to be you. if you can accept them at their ugliest, most carnal, real selves, they will gladly accept you.

xoxo, babe 💋ྀིྀི

[cupidsdescendant]

Hii!! I saw your requests were open. May I request the mercs with a teen reader who was hired as a mercenary who ends up getting hurt in battle? Please and thank you!

Hurt! Teen Reader X Mercs (Platonic)

hi anon! Sure I'd love to ^w^ i think that's incredibly adorable. I decided to make it a platonic situation for obvious reasons but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

Scout:

-acts like a big brother, because you're still a teenager he has that kind of cool kid energy that radiates off him whenever you fight in battle together -always picks you back up, physically and mentally. He loves it because it feels like one of those motivational sports movies (specifically the training montages) -"C'mon Y/N we still got a minute on da clock!" He says as he reaches over to give you a hand. He always helps supports you when you have a limp leg also.

-if you're healing yourself or Medic is trying to patch you up he's always on the lookout and makes sure no one is in the way to interrupt

-Despite him hogging all the health kits he'll share them with you :)

-Giving shitty motivational speeches while you're bleeding on the floor he thinks those would work -"It's not whether you get knocked down, it's whether you get back up, Y/N..." he says staring into the sunset, holding his hand to his chest

Soldier:

-kind of like Scout but acts more like a general to an apprentice

-also gives motivational speeches but his are a little more violent... -"You think that's a loss? I've CRAPPED bigger losses than THAT!!!!!!" (BTW IF YOU KNOW WHICH SFM THAT QUOTE IS I LOVE YOU)

-“cmon we don’t got all day comrade! we must stay focused, we must stay together!” He says as he grabs you, running around the map

-“don’t let a scratch stop ya, Y/N” (your bones are literally sticking out)

-he stops whatever he's doing to patch you up

Sniper

-Snipes is the type of guy to only look out for himself. He's not willing to be helpful in the public eye.

-key word, public eye.

-He knows your hiding spots, so incase of emergencies he'll leave you a health kit.

-You never see him during battle, but after the match he'll pat you on the back for your fighting skills.

-"Good job out there."

"Nice shot on that field." He scatters compliments throughout your battles

-If you did happen to find him he'll wave at you from afar with a soft smile.

-Always looking out for you by sniping anyone near you

-Keeps you safe when you're injured <3

Heavy

-Heavy loses it when you're hurt in battle.

-In fact, he'll take you immediately out of the match and rest you somewhere safe.

-"you vill be okay, leetle one." He says with confidence. There's no way to argue with the man, you're just gonna have to deal with his helicopter mom tendencies.

-Hunts down whoever hurt you and continuously kills them

-"Are eyour hungry?" Two sandviches in his hands and a bright smile on his face. "you must eat up!"

-Screams at Medic to hurry up and help you

Medic

-He's used to injuries and deaths, so he can't help but feel default when you're injured.

-But he loves you, he's concerned about their health, them being his apprentice after all. So he has a little more sympathy than others

-Yes, he has a heart, but its not a very big one...he's dedicated more to figuring out what went wrong instead of your safety.

-"Ja, Y/N. Again!? Jou must be more careful- ooh hoo! your femur is sticking out!" cackling to himself as he takes out his saw.

-Pokes at your joints and bones, kinda plays around while you're in pain lol

-But once he patches you up fully, he'll pat you on your back. "Vell at least we know you're fighting-ha ha!" He'll hand you a medikit and let you be on your way.

-If he hears his named yelled by you he runs immediately!

Demoman

-"What did yer do to yerself this time?!" He spurs out.

-He always finds you with bruises and cuts, even broken bones. It freaks Demo out and he's not the type to sit down and help

-But he will run you over to Medic, carrying you in the bridal position and make sure you don't get hurt.

-"Yer really did it this time, Y/N. I beta not see you busted up again!"

-He lets you take swigs from his alcohol, though. "Thise'll help with tha pain."

-He's always on guard while Medic patches you up and looks out.

-"Yer good? GOOD!" A loud roar comes out of him and he grabs you, jumping back into the action.

Engineer

-Always helpful and worried for your safety ;w;

-When you ask for help he's always the first one to show up and support you

-"Now you stay still, Y/N. I can't have it get infected..." while Medic is busy he plays doctor with you, bandaging and cleaning your wounds.

-He sets up turrets that shoot anyone near you.

-After the battles he'll spend time taking care of you at the base

-"I made ya somethang..." His hands hold a tiny teacup with small tea biscuits on the corner. The rest of the night you both laugh and play games

-Engi is always there no matter what, and he insists on staying with you until you reach full recovery.

-Gives you additional advice on how to dodge bullets and weapons and trains you for the next few days.

Spy

-He thinks you're stupid for getting hurt lol.

-"Must you slow me down?!" He yells in a fit of rage, his face ircked. He stops being invisible and carries you over to Medic.

-He's not very helpful in battle, but after he'll talk to you more about training and practice.

-Thinks he's smug when he leaves a "How to Fight" book on your bed. "I thought ze'd like it!"

-"Now I know zou have a bigger brain than your competition, so don't let me down."

-He'll go invisible and watch you closely, making sure that you really are putting practice to the test.

-Even when you get hurt, he'll watch until you get up. If you don't, he'll sigh, reveal himself and rinse and repeat.

-He's still proud of you nonetheless :3

Pyro

-A real helpful pal! He kills everyone in site if they touch you :D

-Pyro is protective as well, but he's unhinged. Instead of killing, he'll brutally dismember his enemies and leave them half alive.

-He's always there for you no matter what!!!

-You both are a tag team, and if one person gets hurt, the other helps out.

-"mrrph murh murrp uhr!!!" (Thanks for the help, Y/N!!!"

-When you're hurt in battle, he comes and does his own DIY surgery with bandaids, sewing needles, and other miscellaneous items in his pockets

-you run to medic immediately to use real surgery tools because there's an 95% what Pyro used will infect and kill you

-Even though his help is...limited...he's gonna help despite it!

wow. i'm kinda stunned lol. this has been in my drafts for officially 2 years ;____; I'm glad I finished it, though. I hope you all love it. Sorry anon for legit being late!!! kissies and love xoxo

[cookierunoutofideas]

The Bride (Pure Vanilla Cookie x fem!Reader) [Part 2]

And we're back! Still no beta. Also, I started writing this before I caught up to Beast Yeast Chapter 7, so if there's anything inaccurate with the current state of canon, that's why

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

Opening his eyes is a daunting task, but he tackles it as he always did ever since his childhood. The farm needed tending before the sun even presented to make sure everything would run smoothly and his parents needed his help to complete those tasks, after all, so Pure Vanilla Cookie had long cultivated the habit of not taking too long to shake off sleep and start his day.

Still, he struggles to open his eyes and he isn’t sure why.

“I think you killed him.”

“Don’t be silly! My handsome husband wouldn’t die from so little!”

Whispered words reach his ears, finally giving him the push to open his eyes and blink them owlishly a few times as his mind processes what—or who stands in front of him. It is a cookie he has never seen before, one oddly beautiful, like the statues of pure white sugar one can find in old chapels and cathedrals. Beautiful, yes, yet morbid.

“Oh, you’re awake!” The beautiful cookie smiles at him, stepping closer. The light of the candle on the bedside table—whose bed and whose room is he in? Did she carry him here? Has he been kidnapped?—allowing him to take a better look at her.

She seems to be a bit taller than the average cookie and her dough has an odd quality to it. It looks not quite fresh and not quite stale, like it stopped in the middle of the process of losing vitality. Her eyes are void of all light, cold and unseeing in appearance. Her gown is a beautiful and elaborated piece, from the bodice encrusted with jewelry—delicate jewelry that imitate little flowers and stars so well he has a hard time believing they’re stones and metals—to the long layered skirt that hides her legs and feet, as if she is part cloud—more jewels and flowers that shine beautifully—and the puffy sleeves that protect her arms from the slight breeze entering from the windows. A long veil dangles from the elegant up-do of her hair, falling like a curtain of the silkiest cotton candy.

The picture perfect image of a breathtaking bride ready to walk down the aisle.

“I think you hit his head against too many roots,” he can’t see who speaks, however the voice strangely seems to come from the cookie.

“Shh, quiet you!” she hisses, knocking on her own head before returning to her smiling expression. “I’m glad you’re awake, husband. I was afraid for a second.”

Wait.

“Husband?” his voice comes a bit raspy. Sitting up, he finally looks at the room he currently finds himself in.

It is a big room, much bigger than one cookie needed, decorated richly with plants and vases and statuettes. The bed he rests on is big, big enough for three of him, the bedding, of a pastel yellow with blue and white flowers, soft and comfortable, of a quality one would only see in Golden Cheese Cookie’s castle. The furniture was definitely crafted lovingly by a talented hand, each star and flower carved to perfection. The mirror shows Pure Vanilla Cookie his own confused face and slight crooked bow tie-

Bow tie?!

“What?!”

Throwing the covers aside, he takes a good look at his garments. Long gone are his usual flowing tunic and cape, instead a perfectly fitted white tuxedo with gold lapels and accents greets him. A hand to his head confirms that his hat is nowhere to see. He also cannot find his trusty staff anywhere.

“Don’t worry, dear, I didn’t change you... That should be saved for our honeymoon, right?”

Looking back at the only other cookie in the room, Pure Vanilla finally notices how similar the hands cupping her cheeks are to the one that grabbed his wrist and pulled him. Dry and hardened, like a branch.

“H... honeymoon?” he stutters, looking around one last time in hopes of finding at least his staff. “I’m sorry, there must be a mistake...”

“There is no mistake, husband. The vows were said and the rings were exchanged, we’re now wife and husband!”

She giggles, showing off her left hand.

The promise ring he prepared for White Lily Cookie glints from her ring finger.

______________

Someone asked to be tagged, so here we go: @simpdevil66

[scliffe]

From this

To this

I don’t like these two romantically but I do think Ciel must have enjoyed such elated and positive reaction Elizabeth always displayed towards him in the past—she always looked so happy to see him. I’m sure he loves her if at least platonically, despite her blatant preference towards his brother (which is understandable of course, as he is her fiancé). It’s very cute how hard Ciel tried to keep Elizabeth and his remaining family happy but alas…?

I believe the Midfords will eventually side with o!Ciel since the Undertaker and r!Ciel are killing (a lot of) people (and not very discreetly too), but their relationship will never go back to the way it used to be. I’m not very good at making theories so I don’t know where Yana Toboso is going with this; this could be an opportunity for the Midfords to reassure o!Ciel that they still love him and he is still a precious family member to them even if he is not his brother—but even if they do, will o!Ciel believe it?

And yes, I also think Elizabeth also cares for o!Ciel, and she is reacting this way because she feels guilty to both twins—to r!Ciel for not being able to recognize his twin (which frankly would be an insane feat for anyone since any noticeable changes on “Ciel” could be blamed on the life-changing traumatic event he went through), and to o!Ciel because she realized she could’ve had such a heartless thought.

Actually, the way she had these self-introspective thoughts also shows that she cares about o!Ciel. If she doesn’t care about him, she would not have felt guilty. And while everyone was still wondering why o!Ciel impersonated his brother, she instinctively knows the reason—even if she might not have fully realized it yet.

She was placed in a difficult situation, and in her confusion, felt like she ought to at least stood by r!Ciel’s side, her fiancé who is now sickly and needs her support. She could not bear to lose him again. Everyone else can choose to side with o!Ciel, but not her—“I, for one, cannot return to that side.” As for the rest of the family, they are likely unable to take any decisions yet since they practically have no idea what is going on, but again, after they figure things out, I believe they will eventually side with (or at least assist) o!Ciel.

Another person who is often criticized for “siding” with r!Ciel is Tanaka. Now, Tanaka said he was not leaving r!Ciel’s side because he has always been loyal to the Phantomhive family, and it’s easy to take this as confirmation that he considers r!Ciel’s to be the real Earl Phantomhive. But in my opinion, Tanaka’s stance is also understandable: Tanaka is loyal to the family; both twins are his little young masters. So in this case, he is staying with the person he believes needs his support more—because our Ciel already has Sebastian and the rest of the servants. If Tanaka had also left, then r!Ciel would be left alone with Undertaker, whose purpose is still unknown.

Perhaps after a while, Ciel will also understand why these people made the decisions that they took. In the meantime, at least he still has—and will always have—Sebastian.

[ironlamb]

" I WOULD LIKE TO BELIEVE IT IS MUTUAL ." daenya replies with a lofty raise of her chin , her eyes glinting with mischief as they meet his . her smile widens . " although perhaps i am winning ." the jest is light as daenya's eyes crinkle , as she hums a pleased sound at rickon's next words , tilting her head with a light . " you flatter me ." she points to him with a finger . " but you should note that i am the least predictable person you should ever meet too ." or at least she endeavors to be . perhaps not only the least predictable but the most memorable . perhaps not just the most memorable , but the favourite . after all , it is likely rickon will meet a great many people in his lifetime . and where will she land amongst the crowd ? daenya has faith that she is at the very front of it . that she will always be . but it never hurts to be sure . the huff of laughter that daeny releases is warm as she is pulled closer , as her grin widens brightly, as she turns to meet his gaze to say , " perhaps that is what i wish for ." her brows arch cheekily as she meets his gaze , as she leans in to wrap her hands around the bicep of one of his crossed arms to conspiratorially add , " we shall be inseparable . you will be affix to me forever , we will never part ." a glitter of amusement in her eyes as she rests her chin on his shoulder . " i would hope that you might see the appeal in that ." daenya allows herself to be pulled in again without protest . well , not protest at the proximity . she does make a bit of an affronted sound from where her face is buried in his throat , huffing to say , " watch your tongue , i quite like rickon as he is ." she allows herself to be soothed by the closeness for a beat before she pulls back enough to meet his eyes and say , " and the only one permitted to poke at him is me ." she moves to fit their hands together anew , allowing them to be palm to palm as she fidgets with their joint hands . her eyes flick down to where their fingers are lined up before she's adding , " besides , sometimes one needs to be serious ." her tone is lofty , almost sage before she's tipping her head up to playfully meet his eyes again . " so i've heard , at least ."

-

once again as he reaches for her daeny goes easily . the hand on the back of her neck is met with a step forward even as shiver goes up her spine at the touch . her face meets his chest with an inhale that's deep enough to settle her . she turns her head so that her ear is resting against him , so that the warmth of his skin through the fabric is combined with the consistent thrum of his heartbeat . and yet even as daeny finds herself soothed she finds her brows furrowing all the same . " you will not lose me , rickon ." daenya says insistently as she pulls back enough to meet his eyes . her brows furrow for a moment before she's bringing both hands up to cradle his face . her eyes scan his features like she might find answers in them . " ... is that what you think ?" it feels bewildering to daeny . granted , many things in these past few moments have felt so . but perhaps this most of all . " just because you have kissed me does not mean that you will lose me ." daenya says softly , warmly as she meets his eyes . her head shakes the slightest bit to say , " i don't believe we will ever be lost to each other . i mean , not truly ." she would like to believe it at the very least . the hope of that shines in her eyes . " right ?" her features has softened with the words , the furrow between her brows finally easing , smoothing out into something nonexistent . it is with gentle thumbs stroking over his cheekbones that she pushes up onto her toes to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth . she eases back down onto her heels and meets his eyes , her heart still drumming in her chest even as she pulls a hand from his cheek to wave it before his face . " see ?" the slightest huff of laughter . her eyes crinkle with it . " still here ." there's a tenderness in the softening of her voice . she nods as she waves that hand , as she brings it back to his cheek . " not lost at all , even as you have me ." she swallows as their eyes meet once again , as his gaze falls down to what certainly is her lips and she can't help but think that the way he looks at her now feels different . or perhaps it is the same and she has only just noticed it . her heart hammers at the thought , at the question he asks of her . " ... of course ." daeny's head tilts with the words , her eyes flicking over his features , over the line of his gaze . she feels very briefly warm with it . " you needn't ask , truly ." a swallow as she shrugs slightly , as she leans up into him with a truthful , " ... i would have offered ." the words are spoken against his mouth a beat before daeny pushes forward , before she connects their lips with a perhaps uncharacteristic gentleness . there is a moment where she lingers , where she sighs before she is sliding one of the hands on his cheek to the back of his neck , before she's pushing carefully closer .

"You enjoy playing with me, don't you? Perhaps you are the cat, and I the rat..." it is a gentle musing, and his head will shake quick at the mere implication of her following words. They did not hold, not even in jest. "You need not fear such a thing. You are the least predictable person I've ever met, truly." Rickon liked her spontaneity, her freedom, the way she moved from one moment to the next so naturally. He was much different, and yet her own nature made him feel more at ease. With her, he need not constantly worry, or strive to predict the next moment, he could truly forget himself. And he did. For the most part, he did. "You couldn't --" he gasps mockingly at her words, pulling her in slightly closer as his eyes search for hers in spite. "I would stick to your giant shoe like horse manure and haunt you endlessly." he withdraws his hands now, crossing them over his chest with a pout of his own that cracked beneath a held-back smile. And as she fairly points out he'd struggle keeping his hands to himself just as much, he will try not to own up to it too easily. "It is a good thing for the both of us then, that I am Mark and not Rickon. The latter is far too rigid. He would have slept on the floor, like a fool --" he chuckles, stretching his arm behind her neck and over her shoulders to pull her closer in. "I know he is your friend but, he need not be so serious all the time, does he? Not with you, anyway..."

-

The room was heavy with confusion the second he noticed it upon her features. She was trying to understand, he knew she was, and perhaps to an extent she did. Only she didn't. Not truly. Words had failed him, again. It did not seem to worry her, what happens to them from here on out, what happens when they wake up tomorrow, when they leave, when they return home. It did not seem to concern her that she might wish for him sometime, in a manner he could never be. That all of this, whatever this is, she might yet come to regret. Would she? He blinks slightly longer to wash his thoughts of that. 'The rest of your life is — quite far away and I am right in front of you.' Her words cause his features to soften, his anxiety to mellow out and slip away. His breathing to ease. He stood in silence for a moment as his thoughts built upon one another in a poor yet, somewhat successful, attempt to make sense of things. "Aye. So you are." he says at last, and it is quiet and calm and certain. She was, right here, right in front of him. "Come --" hand slips down from her cheek and slides behind her neck to nudge her gently forward so he may hold her tighter against his chest. "You are right. You are..." It took a lot for him to accept that, to truly see that. "Sometimes I -- " he begins -- pulling away just enough so he may find her eyes again. "Sometimes I fear losing things, just as I get them." it had been so his entire life, evident in the way he would refuse to play with new toys in fear of breaking them. In a way he would cling to his brothers the second he saw them again, afraid they might disappear. The way he drew faces, and places, and sights...so he might hold onto them, so he might get to keep them. Rickons fear of losing came hand in hand with the joy of gaining. "I do not wish to be this way, I just...I just am." And that was the truth of it, the very simple and honest truth. The very same truth that often kept him from embracing a moment altogether, same truth that kept him so isolated, so confined, so lonely. "But you are right." he says again, his heart picking up its pace. "You are right here in front of me. And I wish....to forget myself." he leans in then, once more, and this time tomorrow does not exist. "Will you help me?" with the question, eyes will travel south to her lips again, and there he will wait.

[butchnavi]

life went forward and the world moved on but I never got over among us (2018)

[guinevereslancelot]

decided to leave my job and i'm gonna fr gonna cryyyyy