#chaoticduo

[theforgottenhorcrux]

“Yo, what’s up Tumblr!! I made a story called Killing an Excuse and I’m lowkey hyped to share it with you guys. The next update drops ONLY if at least 5 ppl like this blog 👀. So hit that ❤️ and let’s make it happen!! Catch me at The Forgotten Hocruxxx 🖤✨” HERES THE STORY: KILLING, AN EXCUSE.

 ---

I wake to quiet. The kind that lingers in the early morning, untouched.  

Cool air meets my skin as I push the blanket aside. My feet touch the cold floor, but I don’t flinch. Routine carries me forward—standing, stretching, rolling out the tension in my muscles. My body remembers yesterday’s training, but I ignore the ache.  

The shower is hot, steam curling around me in thick ribbons. When I step out, the mirror is completely fogged over. I press a palm against the glass, clearing just enough to see myself. Silver hair clings to my skin, tracing the sharp lines of my frame before I push it back.  

My reflection stares back, unreadable. I don’t linger.  

I pull on my uniform, adjusting the collar with precise movements. A knock at the door. I hear it, but it can wait. I fasten the last button before moving.  

When I open the door, a worker stands there, stiff-backed, his eyes carefully averted. "An announcement in the main hall, Miss Sylver."  

An announcement? My brow lifts slightly. Funny. That’s never a good thing.  

I don’t respond, just nod. He lingers for half a second longer than necessary, then disappears down the hall.  

I close the door, exhaling slowly. Whatever it is, it won’t be good.  

Another day in the Arcanum begins.  

CHAPTER 2

---

I run a hand through my damp hair, pushing it back as I step away from the door. The uniform sits perfectly in place, dark and precise. There’s no need to rush—I already know I won’t be late.  

The hallways are quieter than usual as I walk. A few students pass by, some stealing quick glances, others choosing to look anywhere but at me. The latter amuse me more. 

By the time I reach the main hall, the atmosphere has shifted. Something heavy lingers in the air, a current of tension woven between hushed conversations. I take my place near the front, arms folded behind my back, listening.  

Then, the head of the Arcanum steps forward. The headmaster stands at the front, a rigid presence commanding attention. My mother is beside him, unreadable as ever.Silence falls like a blade.  

His gaze sweeps over us, unreadable. “As of today, the surviving students from Solstice War College will be merging with Arcanum until further notice.”  

The words drop, and so does the temperature of the room.  

I don’t react, but I feel the ripple around me—shocked murmurs, stolen glances, a few sharp inhales.  

Solstice.  

The rival war college. The one that was—  

My lips press together. So that’s what this is about.  The bombing...

My gaze flickers across the hall. Some students look confused, others frustrated. And then there are those who already knew. They stand too still, their faces too carefully neutral.  

This is going to be a problem.  

The head continues speaking, something about unity, adjustments, discipline. None of it matters. Not really.  

Because as of today, Arcanum isn’t just ours anymore.  

It belongs to them, too.  

And that changes everything.    

The announcement ends, leaving a hum of unease in its wake. Whispers ripple through the hall, but I remain still, absorbing the words without reaction. Merging. A necessary inconvenience.

Names are called, and students of Arcanum War College are assigned roommates. My name is spoken, and I glance at the list. Someone I don't recognize—expected. Across the room, the students of Solstice War College stand in separate clusters, unaffected. They’re being given private rooms.

Of course they are.

The headmaster explains the reasoning, something about fairness, about accommodating their "circumstances." I don't bother listening too closely. It doesn't change anything.

Breakfast follows. The dining hall is louder than usual, conversations tinged with tension. I move through the motions—taking my seat, eating without hurry. Around me, fragments of gossip slip through the air.

“Did you see him?”

“Who?”

“Adrian Valkyr. They say he’s the best at Solstice.”

“And he looks like that? Unfair.”

I don’t react, but my grip around my cup tightens slightly. It’s amusing how quickly they reduce skill to appearance. As if power can be judged by a face.

Time moves forward, bringing me to the sparring grounds. The schedule remains unchanged, despite the shift in student numbers. A practice match—one-on-one combat to assess compatibility between training styles.

I step onto the mat, rolling my shoulders as my opponent approaches. A Solstice student.Height somewhat near 5’9.Though it doesn’t matter, they are all the same.Weak.

 He glances at me, then at the instructor, as if expecting a correction.

“You sure about this?” he asks, a smirk curling at the edge of his lips. “She looks like she belongs at a banquet, not in a fight.”

Laughter ripples through his side of the room.

I exhale slowly, tilting my head. They don’t know who I am. Not yet.

I suppose I’ll have to teach them.

---

The instructor gives the signal.  

He moves first—predictable. A sharp lunge, fast but careless. His stance is too open. His blade sings through empty air as I sidestep, barely needing to move.  

A flicker of surprise crosses his face.  

“Fast,” he mutters.  

Another strike, aimed at my ribs. Aggressive. Thoughtless. I pivot, the blade missing me by inches. He stumbles forward, thrown off balance.  

I don’t waste the opening. A single step, a precise sweep of my leg, and his footing vanishes. He barely manages to catch himself, skidding back.  

The amusement in the room dims.  

He exhales sharply. Annoyed. Embarrassed. He grips his weapon tighter, forcing a smirk. “Lucky.”  

I say nothing.  

He lunges again, more force than control. He swings downward, eager to regain the upper hand. I step into him, deflecting his blade with the barest effort—momentum betrays him. My own weapon finds his throat before he can react.  

Silence.  

His breath is uneven, his body frozen. The laughter from earlier is gone.  

I hold his gaze for a moment before lowering my weapon. "If this were real, you’d be dead."  

The match is called. I step back, ignoring the eyes now fixed on me—no longer dismissive, no longer amused.  

I pass a cluster of Solstice students. One girl leans toward another, voice hushed but urgent.  

“That’s Virelia Sylver.”  

And just like that, they finally understand.

---

By the time sparring ends, the energy in the room has shifted. The Solstice students aren’t laughing anymore. They’re quiet in that careful way people get when they’re reassessing something they thought was beneath them.  

I roll my shoulders, ignoring the weight of their stares as I leave. The day moves forward.  

The cafeteria hums with its usual noise—cutlery against plates, hushed conversations, the occasional burst of laughter. I pick at my food, half-listening to the voices around me. They aren’t speaking to me, but information rarely needs an invitation to be heard.  

“…Adrian Valkyr.”  

The name hooks itself into the air. A ripple follows.  

“You saw him train?”  

“He’s fast.”  

“Too fast.”  

“No surprise, though. Solstice swears by him.”  

I don’t look up. Names hold weight in places like this. Some bend under them. Others wield them like weapons.  

Adrian Valkyr.  

The way they say it tells me enough.  

I file it away.  

---

I finish my meal, unbothered by the whispers that weave through the room. Names come and go. People rise and fall. If this Adrian Valkyr is someone worth knowing, I’ll find out in time.  

For now, I have my schedule to follow.  

The afternoon passes in a rhythm of drills and strategy sessions. The instructors test our endurance, pushing past comfort, past limits. Some students falter. I don’t. I move through each exercise with precision, unshaken by the presence of Solstice’s best watching from the sidelines.  

By evening, the sky is a canvas of deep blue, streaked with dying gold. Training concludes, and we are left to our own devices. Some stay behind, eager to prove something. Others drift away in clusters, forming their inevitable alliances. I walk alone.  

I make my way through the corridors.

The corridors of Arcanum War College are a blend of ancient stone and subtle elegance, lined with towering archways that seem to stretch up endlessly. The walls are a muted grayish-blue, worn from years of footsteps, but still holding an air of stately grace. The stone floors are polished to a soft sheen, their cool surface reflecting the dim light that filters in through narrow, high windows. The windows themselves are framed in dark, aged wood, casting long, thin shafts of morning light onto the stone. The light seems almost golden, though it’s only early morning, creating soft pools of brightness on the floor.

The walls are adorned with tapestries of deep reds and silvers—bold and regal, yet understated, their colors rich against the stone. The dim, flickering sconces provide little warmth, their flames dancing softly in the quiet air, illuminating the hall with a gentle amber glow.

The scent of old parchment, wax, and polished leather lingers in the cool, still air, blending with the subtle freshness of morning dew. There’s a silence here, a calm before the day begins. Every footstep echoes with the history of this place, but there’s a certain intimacy to the way the early light plays on the walls, making the coldness feel almost inviting.

Beyond the corridors lies the garden—a sprawling, 380-acre expanse of meticulously cared-for wilderness. The garden is a patchwork of deep greens and cool blues, where the landscape shifts effortlessly from carefully tended flowerbeds to wild, untamed groves. The trees are tall and slender, their trunks a smooth, silvery-gray that seem almost ethereal in the early morning mist. The leaves above are a rich, dark green that catches the morning light in an almost magical way, casting dappled shadows across the ground.

A quiet, reflective pond sits at the heart of the garden, its surface like glass, mirroring the sky above. The water is a deep, tranquil blue, broken only by the occasional ripple from a passing breeze. The flowers surrounding the pond are delicate, their petals various shades of soft lavender and pale silver, almost glowing against the backdrop of the green foliage.

The pathways in the garden are lined with dark stone, their surfaces smooth and worn by time. These paths curve gently, winding between low stone walls and clusters of shrubs that bloom in shades of deep crimson and violet. There’s a subtle fragrance of fresh earth and blooming flowers in the air, mingling with the cool, damp scent of early morning mist.

The sky above is pale and soft, the first light of dawn just beginning to break through the horizon, casting a silver-blue glow over everything. The atmosphere here is one of tranquility and quiet beauty, a stark contrast to the cold, calculated world of the war college. It’s a place where the noise of the outside world seems to fade, where time itself seems to slow.

---

The early morning light filters through the garden, casting long shadows across the stone path. The air is cool and crisp, and the silence feels almost peaceful, broken only by the occasional chirp of birds. I walk steadily, my footsteps echoing faintly, when a soft meow drifts toward me.

I glance to my left. By the pond, a man is kneeling, a cat cradled in his hands. It’s Cinders.

I’ve fed her often during breaks. She always wanders the garden, looking for scraps.

The man is focused on the cat, gently stroking its fur. His posture is relaxed, but there’s an alertness in the way he holds himself—more than just casual attention to the animal. He has sharp features: a strong jawline, high cheekbones, and dark eyebrows that create a sharp contrast with his clear blue eyes. His hair, slightly tousled and a deep brunette, falls just above his brows. It’s the kind of effortlessly attractive look that catches attention, though it means little to me.At the end of the day, they are all the same. Pathetic.

He doesn’t seem to notice me at first, but when he looks up, our eyes meet for a brief moment. His gaze is calm, but there's a quiet intensity to it—like he’s sizing up his surroundings more than simply observing.

“You feed her too?” he asks, his voice low and casual,though he sound slightly pissed at being interrupted.

Not that I care.

I nod, my answer short. “Sometimes.”

He looks back at the cat, his fingers still lightly brushing through her fur. “She’s got quite the appetite.”

In an alternate universe I would have smiled but now I don’t. “She knows how to get what she wants.”

He looks up , as if considering something. “Do you know which way to the Technique and Arts building? I’m... kind of lost.”There is something in that tone- ah yes, disappointment…. I haven’t seen him around so he is from SWC --yes they are all too prideful to ask for help, let alone mere directions.

I glance down the path, already knowing the way. It’s one of the few things I’ve memorized here. “I’m headed there too,” I reply, my tone flat and uninviting. I gesture slightly down the path. “Follow me.”

He doesn’t hesitate, falling into step behind me. We walk side by side, but there’s a noticeable distance between us. I keep my gaze ahead, focused on the path, maintaining the space without effort. As we walk, I notice the slight military bearing in his posture. There’s something too precise about his movements for him to be a civilian.

After a moment, his voice breaks the silence again-its a beautiful sound ,though it sounds like it hursts him to be polite.“I didn’t catch your name.”

I don’t respond right away. The question lingers in the air, but I don’t feel the need to answer. There’s no reason for him to know.

He seems to take the silence in stride, nodding slightly. “Alright, well... You guys seriously have the audacity to act pissed after ruining our college because of your by-mistake bombing experiment?” he rages.

Natural, typical, ill tempered, and really maybe if these are the guys that exist in the SWC maybe the bombing wasn’t bad after all.

We continue walking without exchanging much else.

The building comes into view, and I slow my pace, ready to part ways. “This is where I leave you.”

He nods, then looks at me for a beat, as if he might say something else, but doesn’t.

I don’t wait to see him go, turning away without another word. 

But I catch a glimpse of his name tag.

And then it hits me.

Oh.

Ohhh.

So he’s the almighty great Adrian Valkyr...

The one everyone talks about—the prodigy from SWC. How did I not recognize him sooner? His posture, his calm demeanor, even the way he carried himself—all the signs were there. I might have not known the face before, but I’ve certainly heard the stories. 

The distance between us wasn’t just physical after all.

The classroom is quiet, save for the soft rustle of papers and the occasional murmur of whispered conversations. I sit at my desk, leaning back slightly, one arm crossed over the other as I observe the room with the same level of indifference I always maintain. The professor walks to the front, his steps deliberate, his gaze scanning the room before he begins speaking.

“Alright, students. Pair up for today’s discussion,” he announces in a low voice, and the murmurs quiet immediately. “You’ll be debating the integration of combat techniques into non-combat situations. Think carefully about both the mental and physical aspects.”

I glance around, assessing who might be sitting near me, but there’s no need to worry—no one ever dares sit close to me. My reputation precedes me. And that's how I like it.People remind me of undisciplined dinosaurs.

The professor starts calling out pairs. “Adrian, Lilthy,” he says, and I watch the way Adrian stiffens, his jaw tightening in a barely contained annoyance.

Lilthy Vayne, the overly enthusiastic and very flirtatious student from AWC, grins widely. Her eyes immediately lock onto Adrian, and she slides closer to him in her chair. Twirling her brown hair she pushes her breasts forward. See? Undisciplined dinosaur.

“Adriannn” she says, her voice breathy, as if they’ve known each other for years. She leans forward a little too much , her gaze lingering on him like he’s the only person in the room. “What do you think of the professor’s assignment? I bet you have all sorts of amazing ideas,” she purrs, her fingers grazing his arm in what I’m sure she thinks is a subtle way.

It's really interesting. Most of the time the only interesting show is me excelling, now I suppose it's Lilthy making a fool out of herself.

Don't take me for someone egoistic , no it's just that my internal feelings are much like undisciplined dinosaurs.I apologise for that but I don't care either.

“Can you stop?” Adrian growls under his breath, his eyes narrowing as he looks at her. “I’m not interested. Just... focus on the assignment.”

Lilthy pouts, but she doesn’t stop. If anything, her attempts grow more aggressive as she leans in closer, batting her lashes at him.

“Come on, Adrian,” she coos, “Don’t be so cold. I’m just trying to help... you know, get to know you better.”

Her voice drips with fake sweetness, and I can already feel the irritation in Adrian’s posture.

I should have bought the popcorn from the canteen.Damn it.

The professor, who has been watching the situation unfold, steps forward. His gaze flickers between the two of them, and with a sigh, he mutters, “Adrian, switch seats. Lilthy, you’ll work alone for now.”

Adrian doesn’t even react. He stands up, his movements quick and sharp. As he turns to look for a new seat, I hear a few disappointed sighs from around the room, but I ignore them. Adrian doesn’t seem to care.

“Virelia,” the professor calls out, his voice directed at me now. “You’re sitting with Adrian for the remainder of the session.”

I don’t even blink. The moment the professor gives the command, Adrian walks toward me. I stay seated, letting him take the empty chair beside mine.

He sits down heavily, dropping his bag onto the floor beside him with an audible thud. His gaze flicks to me, then away, his jaw still clenched tight.

I don’t acknowledge him at first, instead turning my attention to the assignment. But I can feel his presence beside me, like a shadow in the corner of my eye. There’s something tense about him, like a coiled spring ready to snap.

“Let’s just get this over with,” he mutters to me, his voice low and tense, his frustration palpable.

I glance at him, my expression unreadable. His hair is still messy, his features set in a permanent scowl. His anger seems to hang in the air like a storm cloud, but I don’t care. He’s not the first person to be pissed off around here.

“You can start,” I reply evenly, my eyes scanning the notes in front of me. “You have the problem, right?”

He huffs, irritated, but picks up his pen anyway. “Fine. Let’s talk about how techniques should be applied in different environments. I’ll start with...”

His voice trails off as he begins writing, but I don’t really need to listen to his words. I can already tell that his frustration is going to make this conversation harder than it should be. He’s clearly not interested in collaborating with me, and that’s fine. I’m not here to make friends.

After a few minutes of silence, I speak up. “The theory of integrating combat techniques into non-combat scenarios is crucial. It’s not just about physical actions; the mental aspect needs to be just as sharp. If you don’t have the mental capacity to apply your training in different situations, you’re not going to survive in the field.”

Adrian glances at me, a frown deepening on his face. “I know that,” he mutters, clearly trying not to snap. “But the reality is different. You don’t always have time to think. It’s instinctual, and that’s what we need to focus on.”

I hold his dark night's-blue eyes's gaze, unaffected by his irritation. “Instincts are useful, but not when you’re up against a challenge you’ve never seen before. You need both: instinct and knowledge. You can’t survive on one alone.”

He clenches his jaw, his blue eyes narrowing. “This is stupid,” he mutters under his breath. “What’s the point of all this theory? It’s not going to help us on a real mission.”

I don’t respond immediately, letting the silence stretch for a moment before I speak again, my voice calm and steady. “You can’t be prepared for every single situation, but if you don’t have the foundation of theory, then your instincts won’t be enough to carry you.”

Adrian is quiet for a moment, then sighs, clearly frustrated. “Whatever,” he says, not looking at me. “You’re right. Happy now?”

I don’t respond. There’s no need to. I already know the truth, and I can feel that tension still hanging between us. He’s not going to let this go easily, but that’s his problem, not mine.

Undisciplined Dinosaurs. They all are.

The rest of the class goes by in a blur, the silence between us growing heavier with each passing minute. Finally, when the professor dismisses the class, Adrian stands up abruptly, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

He doesn’t look at me as he leaves, but I can feel the weight of his gaze on me as he walks out of the room.

---

The library is quiet, the kind of stillness that makes the air feel heavy with unspoken words. The only sound is the soft rustle of pages being turned and the occasional scratch of a pen. I’m tucked into one of the back corners, my gaze scanning over the text in front of me, but my mind isn’t really on the words. It never is in places like this. I come here for the solitude, the absence of distractions.

I’m lost in my thoughts when the door creaks open. Footsteps echo, slow and measured, and I know without looking who it is. There’s no mistaking that presence—Adrian. His footsteps falter for a moment, and I can sense his confusion. He’s probably used to finding his way around better than this, but it’s clear he’s unfamiliar with the library's layout.

Then, just as quickly as the sound of his steps appears, it’s followed by the flutter of excitement.

“Did you see? He’s here! Adrian Valkyr, The Adrian Valkyr!”

Ahh its the horny undisciplined dinosaurs now...

I roll my eyes internally. I don’t need to turn around to know what’s happening. The soft squeals, the hushed voices, the unmistakable air of admiration—Adrian has entered, and the fangirls are making their presence known. A few of them are already glancing in his direction, eyes wide with poorly concealed adoration. It only takes a few seconds before their voices rise in volume, their whispers turning into more audacious comments.

“I heard he’s unbeatable in combat!” one of them whispers loudly.

“I swear, I think he’s even better than Virelia,” another one chimes in, not realizing how loud her words are.

The name hangs in the air, sharper than it should be. I don’t react, but the sting lingers in the back of my mind. They’ve only heard rumors. They don’t know what it means to train, to push yourself past limits they can't even fathom. 

But I don’t care about their opinions. Not really. Fuck no.

Still, I can feel my irritation rising as the voices grow closer, their giggles louder as they try to get Adrian’s attention. He’s not saying anything, but I can almost feel his discomfort. He doesn’t strike me as someone who enjoys being the center of attention, yet here he is, caught in the crossfire of their affections.

I glance at my book one more time, pretending to read as the girls’ voices grow louder. It’s clear that they’ve already approached him, asking him questions, hoping for a conversation they’ll tell their friends about later.

That’s when it hits me—there’s no reason for me to be here anymore. I don’t need to deal with this. It’s the perfect excuse to leave, to slip out unnoticed.

I close my book with a sharp motion, standing up and straightening my uniform. My presence is no longer required, and the noise around Adrian is starting to grate on my nerves. I don’t need to be a part of whatever circus is about to unfold.

As I step away from the table, I hear one of the girls say, “Do you know Virelia. Yeah the Sylver? the one with silver hair? I heard she’s got a serious attitude. But she’s really good at what she does.”

I don’t slow down. I don’t give them the satisfaction of a response. They don’t know me. They never will. I’ve made my own path, and their gossip doesn’t touch me.

I slip out the door without looking back, the quiet hum of the library fading behind me.

I step into the hall, the cool air of the corridor brushing against my face as I walk away from the library. The noise fades into nothing, replaced by the familiar silence of the school. I exhale, feeling the tension leave my shoulders. It’s not that I care what they think, but sometimes, the weight of it all just becomes too much.

I can still feel the faint echo of their words, though. "Better than Virelia." The comparison, as if it’s a game to measure our worth against each other. It’s exhausting, but it’s nothing new.

As I walk down the hallway, my boots clicking against the stone floor, I let my mind wander. My feet guide me instinctively to the training grounds. It's where I go when I need to clear my head, when the world around me becomes too suffocating. I don’t need anyone’s approval or attention. The only thing that matters is the weight of my sword and the rhythm of my movements.

I reach the entrance to the training yard, the scent of steel and sweat filling the air. The sound of clashing swords and grunts of effort rises up to greet me, the noise a comfort in its own way. Here, no one cares about who you are or what rumors surround you. It’s just the fight—the challenge.

I don’t need to look for anyone. I know the grounds well enough. I slip through the archway and find a quiet corner where I can stretch, where I can focus on the sharpness of my body and mind. The air here feels different. It feels like home.

But even as I prepare to begin my routine, I can’t help but feel the shadow of Adrian’s presence lingering. I know it’s ridiculous. I don’t even know him. Not really. He’s just another student, another person caught up in this whirlwind of fame and expectations.

Yet, there’s something about him. Something that gnaws at me, even as I try to shake it off. Maybe it's the way he walked into that library, the hesitance in his steps. Or maybe it’s the way the girls gushed over him, their admiration so open and unguarded. I don’t know. 

I shake my head and adjust my stance. Focus. That’s all I need. Nothing else matters here. Not Adrian. Not the girls. Not the whispers.

I raise my sword and swing, feeling the controlled power of my strike. And for a moment, it’s just me and the rhythm of my movements.

That’s when I see Mr.Pretty ,looking perfectly pissed, coming towards my direction.

---

I watch Adrian as he storms toward me, his steps sharp and filled with that familiar anger. His eyes are colder than usual, and when he finally speaks, his voice is tight with frustration.

“You think I don’t know what you did?” he demands, his words cutting through the air. “You’re the reason AWC bombed SWC. Do you even care about the consequences of your actions?”

I don’t flinch. I don’t even move. His anger might fill the space between us, but it doesn’t reach me. I’ve heard it all before. Everyone else can get caught up in their need for blame, but it doesn’t change anything for me.

“I don’t care what you think, Valkyr,” I reply, my tone flat, indifferent. "I’m not here to explain myself to you or anyone else."

Adrian’s gaze hardens, his jaw clenched as he takes a step closer, like he expects me to react. But I don’t. I’m not moved. 

"You’re just going to walk away from this?" he snaps. "You really don’t feel anything?"

I glance at him for a moment, barely acknowledging the question. "Feelings don’t change anything. Actions do," I say, turning away, the words hanging in the air with no weight.

I can hear him seethe behind me, but I don’t care. It’s not my problem. He wants answers? He’s not going to get them from me. 

Thank youuuuuuuuu:))) I WILL CONTINUE ONLY AFTER 5 NOTES!!!<3:)))

[athenanfaymont]

🦇👶Each batkid with his starter pokemon

🦖 Damian Wayne & Fuecoco: A Chaotic Duo in the Making

Everyone expects Damian Wayne to pick something sleek and deadly like a Charmander (because he can't just pick Charizard, he would LOVE Charizard. Jason would love Charizard too. God. Jason IS Charizard now. And Dick kinda. Are all batkids Charizards? Is Bruce a Charizards creator?). No, Damian doesn't choose Charmander/Charizard: He’s choosing Fuecoco.

Fuecoco is chaotic, stubborn, and full of raw, untapped power—exactly like Damian. While the other Batkids might choose Pokémon that match their calculated battle styles, Damian picks the one that just bulldozes through problems. And honestly? It works.

Damian and Fuecoco would be that menace duo that no one sees coming. Fuecoco’s final form, Skeledirge, is a beast—strong, relentless, and nearly unstoppable once it gets going. It’s the perfect match for Damian’s sheer determination.

Plus, let’s be real—Damian would absolutely deny how much he cares for Fuecoco… but he’d secretly love the little guy.

[Actually, I think Damian would stage a coup and take all the pokemon.]

[mythboundcal]

You Smiled With Blood on Your Teeth Chainsaw Man Fanfic (Power & Denji) by MythboundCal

They’re laughing again.

 Not because anything’s funny.

Just because they’re still alive.

The ramen spilled. Power slipped. Denji tripped over the goddamn cat.

Now they’re both on the floor—noodles in their hair, bruises blooming, Power with a split lip and Denji with chopsticks stuck in his hoodie somehow.

It’s disgusting.

It’s perfect.

“Idiot,” she cackles, blood in her teeth like glitter.

“Takes one to know one,” he shoots back, grinning wider.

The cat—Meowy, smug and unfazed—climbs onto Power’s chest. She yelps like she’s been stabbed and immediately starts bragging about how loyal her familiar is.

Denji doesn’t correct her.

They eat cold ramen with their fingers.

They drink stolen soda. Power burps loud enough to make the light flicker and Denji nearly cries laughing.

He doesn’t know what this is.

He’s had family. He’s had hunger. He’s had pain that made him feel real.

But this?

This is different.

“You’re my minion now,” Power declares, jabbing her finger in his face. “Swear fealty!”

He blinks. “I don’t know what that means.”

“Good,” she says, collapsing onto the couch like a queen after war. “That means you’ll do it.”

He watches her—bloodied, wild, glowing. A nightmare in pajama pants. And something inside him—something small and soft and stupid—feels safe.

She called it friendship.

He didn’t know any better word.

But whatever this is?

It’s his.

[ask-idv-shepherd]

"I apologize about that... I had to take some time off for... a special reason." Though he sounded a bit unsure of his answer, it still didn't stop the Shepherd from lifting his partner's hand and planting a kiss.

Upon being named, ALU took control for a moment, the Shepherd's eyes beaming a bright red, the voice much raspier and dry than his previous vessel's. "Not in the slightest, you vexing parasite. In fact, I found it best when you were silent like the rest "

Quickly shaking his head, the Shepherd regain what control he lost, forming a sheepish smile and chuckling back into the deep brooding voice made of silk. "I'm sorry, he's been agitated lately... Don't pay him too much mind."

"I've been working on something outside the manor. Someplace to hide in. Alu and I have spent many months finishing the perperations. I'm here for two reasons. One to reconnect, the other is a secret." Putting a finger to his lips, Pearce seemed to smile. "So, not telling a soul just yet."

"I see you all are home again. It's nice to finally see familiar faces."

A deep and brooding voice came from behind the two. But easily recognizable is the Shepherd. Almost immediately, the man scooped up his daughter with ease before humming.

"Min dyrebare lille engel... Har du holdt øye med reven?"

Happily nuzzling his adopted daughter was enough to make Pearce smile warmly. Now moving to the gambler, Pearce used one hand to cup Lawrence's cheek while supporting Sam with his other arm.

"It has been a long time, my dear. How have you been? Still scheming as always?"

@ask-idv-shepherd

"Pearce!" "Dad!"

The Candy Dealer didn't waste time on running at the Shepherd to hug him, with the gambler following behind in exciment to see his beloved again.

Despite the girl not understanding what her adoptive father said, the giggled with a genuine smile on her face that was once long forgotten.

The Gambler looked at them with a soft gaze, flinching at the touch of the Shepherd and melting onto it second afterwards, how much he missed it.

"Hehe.. I've been splendid! I would've been better if I was with you, but oh well.. beggars can't be choosers."

"Sammy here actually missed you."

"Of course I did, it's my dad, moron."

Lawrence giggled, only to look at Pearce with a sly smile now on his face. "Sooo what has my handsome shepherd been doing? Has ALU been messing with you? Did he miss me?"

[legendary-69420]

Chapter 8: Fun in the Sun

(Racing Hearts : VOLUME 2)

The sun hung high in the clear blue sky, casting shimmering reflections on the water as the crew from the racing world gathered for an afternoon of relaxation and fun. Laughter and music drifted through the air as Mark and Charles arrived at the luxurious pool party hosted by one of the more affluent sponsors. Mark, ever the showman, strolled in wearing a barely-there beach shirt that left little to the imagination, leaving a trail of awestruck gazes in his wake.

Charles couldn't help but roll his eyes, a grin creeping onto his face. "You just love being the center of attention, don’t you?" he teased, slapping Mark on the back as they walked toward the pool.

Mark shrugged, a playful smirk on his lips. "What can I say? I was born for this." He winked, adjusting his sunglasses with an air of confidence that sent a flutter of excitement through Charles.

As they settled poolside, the atmosphere buzzed with energy. The drivers mingled, drinks in hand, sharing stories and indulging in some friendly banter. Mark and Charles found themselves near the edge of the pool, where a group of fans had gathered, eager to capture moments for their social media.

---

Instagram Comments:

@F1_Fanatic: "Mark is serving looks today! 🔥 #MaterialBoy"

@RacerChick88: "Can we talk about how perfect they look together? 👀 #BestFriends"

@CharlesLover123: "Mark’s basically a walking ad for summer. And Charles... UGH. ❤️"

@Speedy_Snaps: "These two are going to break the internet with their vibes! #ChaoticDuo"

@SunshineRacer: "Mark is the hottest guy on the grid, and I am NOT sorry for it! ☀️🌊"

@RivalsOrNot: "Wait, aren’t they supposed to be rivals? Why are they always together? 🤔"

@TeamDrama: "Love how they pretend to compete but are basically besties! 😂 #F1Bromance"

@Sassyf1Fan: "Rivals on track, besties off track? Mark and Charles are the definition of ‘it’s complicated’! 💕"

---

As the afternoon progressed, Mark decided it was time for some fun. He hopped into the pool, splashing water everywhere and challenging Charles to join him. With a mock sigh, Charles followed, diving in after Mark and emerging with his hair slicked back, droplets glistening on his skin.

“Alright, hot-shot! Let’s see what you got!” Charles yelled over the laughter and music, a competitive glint in his eye.

Mark grinned, the sun highlighting his features. “You’re on!” They raced through the water, the tension of the track forgotten, replaced by carefree competition.

After a while, they emerged from the pool, their bodies glistening under the sun. Mark grabbed a towel, but instead of drying off, he draped it over Charles’ shoulders.

“Here, let me help you.” His tone was light, teasing.

Charles laughed, rolling his eyes but enjoying the moment. “Thanks, but I’m not a damsel in distress, you know?”

“Who said I thought you were?” Mark shot back, a playful grin on his face.

After the pool party, the group decided to head to the beach for a yacht outing. The transition from the party to the yacht felt surreal, the smooth waves cradling the vessel as laughter filled the air.

Mark, ever the daredevil, decided to take the lead on deck, his confidence infectious as he rallied the drivers for some beach games. When the yacht finally docked, Mark and Charles slipped away to a more secluded area of the beach, the sound of laughter fading into the distance.

“Just look at this view,” Mark said, stretching out on the sand, his shirt barely covering his toned torso. “Perfect way to unwind after a hectic week, right?”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Charles replied, lying back beside him. The warmth of the sun felt comforting as they soaked in the moment. “But you know, I’m still surprised you can manage all this fun while balancing your responsibilities.”

Mark propped himself up on one elbow, looking at Charles. “I make time for what matters,” he said, sincerity in his voice. “And you matter.”

The atmosphere shifted, the lightheartedness of the day turning slightly more serious. But just as quickly, Mark’s trademark grin returned. “Let’s not get all deep and philosophical here. It’s supposed to be a fun day!”

Charles chuckled, the tension dissolving. “Agreed. Fun it is!”

As the sun began to set, the duo found themselves building a sandcastle, much to the amusement of passing beachgoers. The occasional Instagram story or snap captured their antics, further fueling the social media frenzy surrounding them.

---

Instagram Comments:

@BeachBabe92: "Can we talk about how cute they are? Just BUILDING a sandcastle together? #CoupleGoals"

@SandySquad: "Mark and Charles are the chaotic duo we didn’t know we needed! 😂"

@EpicSunset: "They’re literally living the dream! #F1Life #Besties"

@ChillinRacers: "Who knew racing could be this much fun? #BeachBuddies"

@F1_Fam: "They need to start a YouTube channel together, seriously! I’d watch that!"

@RivalsWho?: "I can’t keep track—are they rivals or best friends? Either way, they’re always together! 💖"

---

As the night crept in, Mark and Charles finished their castle, a lopsided masterpiece that felt more like a representation of their friendship—chaotic, but undeniably strong. They settled back, watching the waves crash against the shore, laughter still dancing between them.

“Let’s take a picture,” Mark suggested suddenly, pulling out his phone. “For the ‘gram, of course.”

“Of course,” Charles replied, playfully rolling his eyes but leaning in closer. The warmth of their bodies radiated as they posed, Mark’s arm slung casually around Charles’ shoulders.

The moment was perfect, capturing the essence of their friendship—a blend of chaos, fun, and the beginnings of something deeper.

---

With the sun setting behind them, they both felt the world around them fade, leaving only the two of them, the crashing waves, and the endless possibilities that lay ahead.

(next chapter gonna be thrilling af)

[chaoticduo96]

Set your heart ablaze 🔥🔥🔥🔥

He smiles he thrives and he UMAIS Rengoku Kyojuro starting a desing line for all of your favorite Kimetsu no yaiba characters.

He'll be comming soon to our store as both a keychain and a clear sticker so remember to check it out! ChaoticDuo created by @rcaotic this desing done by @forreal-forreal42

[boredgirl2004]

I'm thinking about two characters from two different fandoms. I need peoples opinions....

What if they made a deal? How would they interact with each other? Would they rule all the multiverses together or would they tear each other apart? (I know Jack would lose that battle but like, I can't stop thinking about these two)

#WhatamIdoing #Iamgenuinelycurious #chaoticduo(literally)

[imrealfaker]

Chaoticduos -> imrealfaker

from that sideblog to a new sideblog! Yes im back!!

[theforgottenhorcrux]

BREAKING NEWS: 🦖 Scientists have confirmed that if you don’t read Killing ,an Excuse, you might actually be as extinct as the dinosaurs. 🤯

Do you want to be a cool, thriving velociraptor or a forgotten fossil? Exactly. So go read. Before the meteor hits. 👀🔥

[goldenkingyo]

Also have these too!

I forgot I didn’t post them here but have Zoar noticing Abigahil for the first time and a random Drabble sheet :>

Abigahil and Klop belong to the lovely @caandydosvale

[ao3feed-snape]

“Love, your beloved stag <3”

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/qoQfnJc

by Chaoticduo

What will Severus do when one night roaming the halls of Hogwarts results in an unexpected encounter with some mysterious person who seems to like him? And what will be do when that person happens to stalk him and wants to mate with him?! And now they are giving letters, gifts and money to fix himself to show people his supposed beauty, not to mention people who approach him now to get with with him are traumatised and resting at the infirmary? Oh what has he gotten himself into?… at least it’s not the marauders… right?…

Slow update Don’t expect excellent writing, I’m failing English people. I will try to make it at least 1000 words per chapter, if a chapter is edited to be longer don’t be surprised most of the chapters I do will be edited some time later. I will try to do a chapter per week, so sorry. Feel free to criticise my writing and tell me my errors.

Words: 1035, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Characters: Severus Snape, James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, Lily Evans Potter, Lucius Malfoy, Marauders (Harry Potter), Gryffindor Students, Albus Dumbledore, Minerva McGonagall, Horace Slughorn

Relationships: James Potter/Severus Snape

Additional Tags: Mating Cycles/In Heat, Werewolves, Animagus, Stag - Freeform, Deer, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Era, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Marauders, Possessive James Potter, Gay, Bottom Severus Snape, Top Severus Snape, Bad Writing, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Slow To Update, What Have I Done, I Don't Even Know, Stalker James potter, Jealous James Potter, Protective James Potter, Confused Sirius Black

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/qoQfnJc

[crispyperfectioncriedfricken]

LOVED IT

Hawkeye season 1 episode 6: a romantic comedy

[thissebstan]

I N S T A G R A M :: thissebstan

Are you ready for that last episode, Cioccolaccino? I’m not ready... 😂 #chaoticduo #twobraincells #guysdoingthings #tfatws

[theforgottenhorcrux]

"Hating me won’t fix anything, Valkyr." He doesn’t hesitate. "Neither will forgiving you." — Killing an Excuse(CHECK OUT MY NEWWW BOOK)

[theforgottenhorcrux]

KILLING , AN EXCUSE; REQUIRES A PLAYLIST...

Killing an Excuse – The Playlist 🎧

Control – Halsey (Virelia energy: "They send me away to find them a fortune...")

You Should See Me in a Crown – Billie Eilish (Virelia knowing she owns the room)

Take Me to Church – Hozier (Valkyr's rage + regret)

I Know Places – Taylor Swift (Enemies, but fate keeps pulling them together)

Gasoline – Halsey (Both of them, honestly)

Seven Devils – Florence + the Machine ("See I was dead when I woke up this morning" = Valkyr)

The Devil Within – Digital Daggers (A battle of wills, but also feelings)

Heathens – Twenty One Pilots (Everyone watching Virelia and Valkyr tear each other apart)

Salvatore – Lana Del Rey (A little unhinged, a little intoxicating)

Wicked Game – Chris Isaak / Ursine Vulpine cover (Falling for the person you swore to hate)

My Blood – Ellie Goulding (Enemies or something worse—soulmates)

Love Is a Bitch – Two Feet (Lowkey, this is their theme song)

Me and the Devil – Soap&Skin (Soft, deadly, inevitable)

Bad Romance – Halestorm cover (Dark, dramatic, obsessed)

The End of Love – Florence + the Machine (When denial isn’t working anymore)

[theforgottenhorcrux]

Check it outtttttttt

🚨 New Story Alert: Killing, an Excuse 🚨

Enemies. Tension. Survival.

Virelia Sylver and Adrian Valkyr have been on opposite sides for too long. Forced into a mission where every move could be their last, they find themselves fighting not only for their lives but against something darker.

Will they kill… just for an excuse to escape? What happens when survival means risking everything? And is their rivalry truly all they have left?

The lines between enemy and ally are more blurred than ever. But the question remains… who will walk away from this alive?

Find out now. https://www.tumblr.com/theforgottenhorcrux/778011596099403776/yo-whats-up-tumblr-i-made-a-story?source=share

🔥 Follow for updates. #EnemiesToLovers #Suspense #KillingAnExcuse #StoryTeaser #WritersOfTumblr #Tension #Drama