#friends to lovers to enemies

[corpsebasil]

Hello!! Could I request an ethan Landry x reader fic where maybe reader puts 2&2 together after their first kiss or something and she like runs out of the dorm goes to the libary and looks up the previous ghost faces and maybe finds an old picture of ethan/richies family and she just sobs prints out the proof and rushes to warn her friends but before she gets a chance Ethan’s there and he’s just taunting her like you shouldn’t stick your nose where it doesn’t concern you now you have to pay. And either readers escapes him and ends up killing him in the end or she dies?

Yes I can babe

My Little Liar

warning/ pretty violent; character death

He was always conveniently missing when shit went down.

You trusted him. You were sure you trusted him, but…

You’d been hurt that night, attacked as you’d been on the way home from the grocery store. Ghostface had pinned you against the wall of some disgusting alley, one hand against your mouth to muffle the keening noise that left you when he dragged his knife down your arm, leaving a long line of red from elbow to wrist.

It was a cut that would’ve ended your life in seconds had it been even a fraction deeper. But he’d made it shallow, just enough to sent pain searing down your arm, all while tilting his head at you as if in amusement.

And now Ethan, your friend, was cleaning the cut, frowning down at the bloodied skin. He’d said he was on his way to bring you back your textbook when he’d knocked, hardly ten minutes after you’d stumbled, bleeding and crying softly, into your apartment. You stared at him, eyes lingering on the curve of his nose, his curly hair, his mouth that was turned down at the corners as he began to wrap gauze around your forearm.

“At least it wasn’t deep.” Ethan commented, peering up at you.

You sat on the edge of your tub as he kneeled by your feet, your arm still in his grasp. Good lord the boy’s eyes were stunning. But he was unamused as he stared at you, his expression almost blank. You tugged your arm gently out of his grip.

“I’m surprised he didn’t kill me.” You raised your eyebrows, running your fingers across the bandage. “He had the chance.”

“Maybe he wants to drag it out.” Ethan mused, eyes still holding your own, and a chill ran across your skin.

You left out a half-hearted laugh, eyebrows knitting together as you looked at him.

“Ethan that’s not funny.” Your voice was strained as you remembered the fear and the pain that the killer had inflicted on you, on others, and you were surprised to feel a tightness in your chest.

“I’m not trying to be funny.”

“Then don’t say shit like that.” You were tearing up, standing and moving away from him. He should’ve been comforting you not suggesting Ghostface wants to take his time. Ethan rose and grabbed your hand before you could leave the bathroom, pulling you back towards him.

“Hey, look, I’m sorry.” He said, grasping your face in his hands. “I didn’t mean it like that. I shouldn’t have said it.”

“No you shouldn’t have.” You sniffed, looking up at him, at his brown eyes that had softened and were peering down at you.

“I’m sorry.” He said again, as sincerely as he could, before he leaned down and kissed you.

Your heart stopped.

You’d known you liked him, but he was—

“Y/N.” Ethan whispered against your mouth, tugging you closer. You made a soft sound of pleasure as he kissed you deeper, one arm of his looping around your back.

“Wait,” you breathed, pulling away, and laughed when he chased after you, his face flushed, eyes focused on your mouth. “hold on, hold on. We need to tell the others what happened.”

“Can’t they wait?” He protested, already guiding you towards the living-room, dead set on getting you on the couch. You grinned when he sat down, pulling you onto his lap, his lips finding your neck.

“Just…for like, ten minutes max.”

“Mhmm.” He murmured against your skin.

-

That night as you laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling, you couldn’t fall asleep. You had been tossing and turning since Ethan had left, and the sting in your arm had reduced to a low throb. But something was nagging at you. Something about the way he’d looked up at you from the bathroom floor, that cold look in his eyes reminded you of—

You sat upright instantly, your breath catching. No. It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be possible.

But you were standing, pulling your shoes on and throwing open your apartment door, tearing off into the night. You made it to your university and slipped silently into the 24 hour study room, surprised to see there was no one else in the large section of the library.

So you made your way to a laptop, logging in and googling Ethan Landry. Your fingers clacked along the keyboard at a rapid clip before the data came up: nothing. You frowned, pulling out your phone, to search him on Instagram. Still nothing. It was like your friend didn’t exist online at all.

Then, breathing a bit shallowly, you searched for the other name that you had on your mind. And you scrolled. And scrolled. And then, you saw it. You squinted, leaning in, heart racing as you took in the image.

It was a man, a man who looked vaguely familiar, with his arm around—

You lurched back from the screen, staring at the trio. He was younger there, so was Richie, but it was unmistakably Ethan.

“No fucking way.” You mumbled, feeling slightly panicked, your face turning red hot when you realized you’d made out with the brother of the Ghostface who had nearly killed you. You saved the image, opening up your WhatsApp on the computer as you made to send the photo to Tara.

But then a hand grabbed the back of your shirt, yanking you away from the computer, and you screamed as your chair crashed backwards onto the floor, your head hitting the ground.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Ethan demanded, hauling you up against him, his grip on the back of your shirt almost choking you. You thrashed but he held tight, growling into your ear as he spoke. “What were you doing, Y/N?”

“You—he’s your—” you steadied yourself on your feet, smacking at him, still trying to wrench yourself away. “You’re a liar.”

“First smart thing you’ve ever said to me, baby.” He laughed and let go, causing you to stumble forward and away from him.

You bolted towards the door, yanking on the handle, and let out a strangled sob when you found it was locked. So you turned towards the other exit, only to find Ethan blocking your path, a sinister grin on his face.

“It was so easy to get you to trust me.” He purred, taking a casual step forward. “I’ll admit though, you’re a hell of a kisser. I might’ve even slept with you if you would’ve let me.”

“You’re disgusting.” You spat, edging your way around a table. “Get the fuck away from me, E.”

“If you promise not to tell,” he offered, tilting his head as he moved forward again, inching closer. “I might let you go.”

You wept, heart racing as the swell of his betrayal washed over you, your head shaking rapidly.

“Ethan, no. You were my friend.”

“Shame.” He sighed, as if this was tiring, and then picked up the nearest laptop and threw it at you.

You shrieked as you dodged but it still managed to hit your shoulder, the slam of it causing pain to rush throughout your chest and arm. The blow caught you off guard and you hardly had time to react before he was rushing you, grabbing your waist and tossing you to the ground.

“No!” You screamed, scrambling away, and then your scream turned into a wail when he dropped on top of you, his knee digging into the top of your arm, forcing your injured forearm against the ground.

“I can make this worse, Y/N.” He threatened, and you heard the slide of the knife when he removed it from where he’d hidden it. You were crying in earnest, shaking your head as you thrashed. “Beg me, Y/N.”

“Fuck you.”

“Beg me, and I’ll stop.”

Your chest heaved; your arm was pooling blood onto the ground, the ache in it almost unbearable, and his weight was crushing you. And you really, really, didn’t want to die.

“Ethan please.” You cried, squeezing your eyes shut. “Please. Please if you ever cared about me don’t—”

He lifted his weight just enough to roll you over before straddling you again, your tear soaked face staring up at his. He looked down at you, his psychotic expression having had calmed, settling into a serene little smile that scared you more than anything. He’d pinned your arms with his knees again, though he was putting less force on your wound. The direct pressure was still agonizing, though, and silent tears ran down your cheeks as you shuddered.

“Don’t cry, baby.” He sighed, eyebrows furrowing. You stiffened, trying not to sob aloud when he lifted his knife and ran it slowly across your cheek, his eyes tracking the movement. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m not going to cut you.” Then, as an afterthought, “again.” As if for emphasis he threw the knife away from him, out of reach. “You still haven’t promised not to tell anyone.”

“I won’t.” You lied, blinking up at him. Then you cringed when he reached down and cupped your face in his hands, eyeing you with a knowing look that made your heart stumble. It was already pounding so hard you thought it might give out.

“My little liar.” He smiled, and slid his hands down to your throat. When he dipped his head down and kissed you, a long kiss, you squeezed your eyes shut and tried not to tremble. “We would’ve made a good team.” He murmured against your mouth, and then his hands began to squeeze.

When you realized what he was doing you started shaking, thrashing against him, fresh tears running down your face.

“No, no, E—” But you couldn’t speak, not as his fingers crushed into your throat, pushing you down so harshly to the ground you thought your neck would break.

You were gasping for breath, your chest growing tighter and tighter, the feeling of fire wrapping around your lungs making you sob violently. There was no air—no air left in the world—not as the taste of bile seemed to fill your mouth and your skin began to tingle, all the way from the top of your head to your toes.

Your lips were soundlessly forming his name, over and over, as spots began to spark in your vision. To his credit, and your surprise, his eyebrows furrowed and he looked away, his throat bobbing as he roughly swallowed.

And when the darkness swarmed in and you felt the first twinge of cold, you held onto the image of him, the good one, the one where he hugged you tight, the one where he kissed you and you believed he cared, until you couldn’t think anymore at all.

HELLLOOOO comment and LIKKKE

this was gnarlier than what I’m used to LOL

[bubblewhale]

Me from when i was watching jjk s1, oh boy i was not ready to be right about this

(the references were referencing)

[saltandfire-blog]

When you realize your ship is manifested from Fox and the Hound 😅❤️

[its-bread-bitch]

Alador x Darius is an absolutely insane ship not because it’s cracky or bc they wouldn’t have chemistry but bc if it��s your OTP then it’s friends to lovers to enemies (mutual pining) to lovers which is an absolute insane dynamic but also iconic

[meg-noel-art]

all units alert the OCs are fightinnng

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Hi Cat. I’m in need of Hero who doesn’t have guts to get rid of Villain, even though Villain would accomplish the very same task just well. So instead of a quick “happy end” Hero dooms themselves to emotional suffering and with that dooms Villain to humiliation and pain. Though, maybe, it can be changed…

The villain’s smile was soft.

“You haven’t changed one bit.”

And the hero, tears in their eyes, shaking hands gripping the gun desperately, tried their best not to sob. But it didn’t really matter. Both of them looked like a mess and the hero’s body language betrayed them, no matter how hard they tried to focus on this.

“You’re still the same scared kid,” the villain said. “So scared of what they’ll think. Monster. That’s what they’ll call you and you know it. The same name they gave to me all those years ago.”

Even though the tears were strolling down their cheeks, the hero refused to believe that they were actually crying. This wasn’t real. This was a bad dream.

But the blood on the villain’s chin, the cracked shoulders and the hero’s sprained ankles were real. All of this was so painfully, horribly real.

“I hate you,” the hero whispered, trying to convince themselves that this was just another day at work and above all, that they meant those words with their heart.

“Then shoot. Do it.” The villain seemed to be just as tired as the hero themselves. Fighting for a whole night was a bit more than strenuous and now that the sun was rising, the exhaustion washed over them like hard winter rain.

“Why didn’t you stay?” the hero asked. Their voice quivered, making them feel weak for the first time in their life.

They thought they were fine. They thought they could live with the things the villain had done to them, they thought they could move on. But they couldn’t.

In fear of seeing them, they’d gotten rid of their phone, thrown away their TV, smashed their radio. The hero had no clue what was going on in the world and all of that was just because they couldn’t stand to see the villain. Couldn’t stand to hear about what they were destroying now. Which hero they took a liking to.

They explicitly avoided fighting them.

And it was fine. It was good. Until the villain decided to build weapons of mass destruction and sell them.

“There was nothing left for me,” the villain said. They groaned as they tried to stabilise their shoulder clumsily. Funny, how both of them had the same wounds. After all these years, they still knew each other’s weak points and how to turn their strengths against each other.

“I was there,” the hero said. “I was always on your side. I knew you didn’t murder them. Why did you leave me?”

Slowly, the villain pushed themselves up and the pointed gun followed their movements shakily. Again, there was a smile on the villain’s lips. A small smile that was somewhere between regret and happiness.

“The difference between you and me, my dear, is that I don’t need you. I don’t want you anymore. I let go of our past a long time ago.” The hero wanted to sob. They wanted to hug the villain and apologise for their mistakes. They wanted to talk to them and tell them about their fears and their accomplishments, their day and their night. They wanted them back in their life oh so badly but when they looked into the villain’s eyes, there was not even a spark of those feelings inside.

“I’m sorry,” the hero said, not able to hold back the tears.

“That doesn’t change anything,” the villain said. “I loved you and when I needed you, you weren’t there for me. You may think you were, you may think you offered your help and that I was the one who didn’t come to you. But I noticed your growing resentment towards me. I noticed how you talked about me with others. So, I left.”

“I’m really sorry,” the hero said.

“I don’t care,” the villain answered. “I got out of the burning house soon enough. But you’re still in it and the fire is eating you up.”

This time, the villain’s smile was a bit cruel.

“And personally, I cannot wait to see your ashes scatter in the wind.”

[favouritefearlesswhumper]

Friends to lovers to enemies is such a great whump senario godamnit

Two people staring at each other. One dressed in dark clothing. The other in light.

One crying. One trying very hard not to cry.

(And failing.)

One smiling sadly. The other glaring.

"Fuck you."

"I know."

"I hate you."

"I know."

"I wish you'd keel over and die, right now."

"I know."

"When this thing blows over, I pray to God, you better be out of my fucking sight- or so help me, I'll finish you off myself."

"I know."

"..."

"I think I'm still in love with you."

And the other simply raises their weapon.

"...

I know."

[thatonepersoninthebackoftheroom]

So, here we are again. At the end of the world, me laying here and you five feet in front of me. I keep thinking that if only I could reach you, drag you back to me, I could change it. But we both know how this ends and how it has always ended every time. So if I stay here, unmoving, will you also pause, and can we live in this moment of time unchanged?

[ohnoema]

cover of my fic Book of Revelation, inspired by the painting The Fallen Angel by Alexandre Cabanel

What if Ranrok's death was not the end of it all? What if everything was part of something bigger?

"Revelation 6:12-14 - I watched as he opened the sixth seal. There was a great earthquake. The sun turned black like sackcloth made of goat hair, the whole moon turned blood red, and the stars in the sky fell to earth, as figs drop from a fig tree when shaken by a strong wind."

you can read it on wattpad and AO3 <33

[whim513]

thinking about the sci-fi yaoi that i dreamt of the other night. So much tension… potential… horror love… tenderness… anger…mhmm

[gojoshooter]

Someone said double take sounds like stsg and ive been crying since

[robinkid22]

Redo of Malva and Widow (Left to Right) that I did a few years ago. I'm really happy with how this turned out, the shading is a little iffy but is it my art if the shading makes sense?

tfw you're forced to dance with your ex who you still have some feelings for but the feeling is for a past version of herself that neither of you can ever get back because she's done too many things wrong to be forgiven (like kill your parents and destroy your kingdom)

meanwhile, Widow is just happy to finally find her gf alive (she doesn't think she did anything wrong)

here's the old piece, I think I've made a lot of improvement anatomy wise

[themostfinalofpams]

Trying to find more songs that fit this vibe

[lady-ofliterature]

[letsgofoletsgo]

So

I’m like. Imagining these fluff/angst scenarios with Caraway and Lavender and feeling Hella about it

But I look at it and it’s just. Funny bc other than Jay or belle, I don’t think I ship any f/o with a canon character like this, much less so enthusiastically

Don’t worry, this isn’t a vent or anything. I guess it’s just odd bc I don’t think many other selfshippers feel this way? Idk lol

[sleepybite]

𖤐⋆｡ ﾟlore and facts archive: damian jackson

WARNINGS: manipulation, violence/death, religious themes

NOTES: damian is my second oldest oc and has had the most name changes LMAO—pronouns are he/him, it/it’s and they/them! takes place in same universe as michael’s.

𖤐⋆ to begin, damian was never human to begin with. they were never born a human and turned into a demon as he was born from pure ill intentions.

𖤐⋆ he was aware of this, and wasn’t ashamed. it was aware of how the world worked and how demons like them were viewed. damian knew what he was made for, and knew he had no other purpose. he loved what he did not because he was causing harm but because he was serving a greater purpose.

𖤐⋆ the job he was assigned was to lesser the angels advances as a possible war was on the horizon. he could do it however he saw fit, just don’t cause a scene and if he could make another demon do so. bring others falling with him.

𖤐⋆ and so with a human disguise and a few deaths, damian has a way into seeing angels without them knowing. of course there was a few he had to kill but eventually he found the perfect target who was near his age. not the easiest pick to follow as he was already near ascension, but a good one under stress and pressure. damian set the plan in action as they slowly got the subject to talk to them more and more, warming up to him.

𖤐⋆ the subject’s name was michael deonn. it was a bit too late to stop the child years of training, but it wasn’t too late to delay the process. the few years he spent gaining his trust and slowly withering at his soul without his knowledge. they were aware of how michael felt about him after a while, that he genuinely loved damian. and after awhile damian found itself falling for michael, but as much as he loved michael, he didn’t love him more than his mission. his purpose for being born.

𖤐⋆ it has been manipulating his mind and soul since he was young, as it is all they were made for. it has been slowly eating michael up mentally as he has watched. eventually, in the upcoming days, he completely takes hold of his mind. both figuratively and literally in the sense. he in a way hypnotizes michael and puts him in a haze, no longer letting him control his own body and making him see what damian wants him to.

𖤐⋆ his job was done, the soul was corrupted. the sin of murder was enough but the fact that it was people he cherished was an added factor. it almost hurt to see michael so distraught and empty but such as what the job entailed. however even though he was a demon he wasn’t a heartless monster. he let michael cry on his shoulder and gave him a place to grieve. while the mission was key it did still care for him a sick way.

𖤐⋆ damian wasn’t sure why it told michael. it didn’t have to of course he would most likely never find out, at least not for a long while. he supposed he felt he owed it to him in a way, for everything he’s done. knowing doesn’t change what had happened. it didn’t know that would place his death in stone.

𖤐⋆ what he told him speeded the transformation up by weeks. he knew his job was well and done and left back to the demon realm to report. he wasn’t expecting michael to follow months later. it had never seen michael like the way he was that day in any of his years.

𖤐⋆ naturally after what damian had done there was no restoring what he’d put michael through. michael wanted to know why, and he told him that it was just what he had to do. the two were aware of how each felt, or did feel before this but that didn’t matter now. it knew why he was here.

𖤐⋆ when the two fought it was a spectacle. the forms of the demon and a corrupted angel giving it their all to end each other. even on his side, he’s unsure if michaels win was because he loved him or he was stronger than it knew.

𖤐⋆ it was silly to them. even after all the pain they caused michael he sat with them until his soul was dead forever, talked to him about how he wished he would have chose him over what was picked. damian wished too, they had met in a different time, in another life.