#she'd let herself be hurt by him and not really be able to hate him even if she is mad

[halfmoonaria]

change of plans

pairing: tara carpenter & female reader

summary: tara was going to take care of it—end things for good—but nothing went the way she planned.

word count: 9.6k

warnings: dark themes, murder intent, violence, strong language, intrusive thoughts, implied stalking.

Tara didn't think she was a jealous person.

She was sure of it, actually.

Jealousy wasn't something she dealt with, at least not in the same way other people did. She told herself she wasn't the type to stew over what someone else had or waste time feeling resentful.

But looking back, there were moments—small, fleeting ones—that didn't quite fit the version of herself she liked to believe in.

When she was little, the first spark of that unfamiliar emotion would hit when someone snatched a toy out of her hands. It wasn't sadness or disappointment—it was sharper, hotter, and before she even realized what she was doing, she'd yank the toy back, sometimes with enough force to send the other kid stumbling.

She didn't mean to hurt them, not really, but the instinct to make things fair—or at least fair by her standards—was too strong to ignore.

Her teachers called it "trouble controlling her temper." Her mom called it a "phase." But it kept happening.

There was the time in first grade when another girl in her class got to play the fairy princess during dress-up. Tara had been stuck with the frog costume.

She'd sulked in the corner, watching the other girl twirl around in sparkly wings, until something inside her snapped. The girl didn't see it coming when Tara stomped up, grabbed the glittery wand, and broke it clean in two.

She didn't even regret it until she was sitting in the principal's office with her mom glaring at her from across the room.

By the time she was nine, Tara had lost count of how many times she'd been dragged to the teacher's office. Sometimes it was for yanking a classmate's hair after they showed off a new toy she didn't have. Other times, it was for shoving someone too hard during recess when she thought they were bragging about something they shouldn't have.

Her teachers always asked the same question: "Why did you do it, Tara?"

She never had a good answer.

Her mom tried everything—calming techniques, time-outs, grounding her from TV or playdates—but none of it worked.

The truth was, Tara didn't know why it bothered her so much when someone else got what she wanted. All she knew was that the feeling burned in her chest, hot and heavy, until she had to do something to let it out.

She couldn't pinpoint what the feeling was, not even as she got older—when she was supposed to be able to handle her emotions better, to control the bursts of anger and the bubbling rage that seemed to come out of nowhere.

It wasn't jealousy though. She was sure of that.

Jealousy felt petty, childish, like something people dealt with in middle school when they saw someone else wearing the same pair of shoes but in a better color. Tara wasn't petty, and she definitely wasn't childish. At least, that's what she told herself every time the heat rose to her face, her fists clenched so tight her nails dug into her palms, and her vision blurred with that same fiery haze she'd felt since kindergarten.

It didn't make sense to call it jealousy. Jealousy implied weakness, didn't it? Like you couldn't be happy for someone else because you wanted what they had. Tara didn't think she wanted what anyone else had—she just hated the idea that they had it at all.

She didn't think it was anywhere close to jealousy—not until Chad broke up with her.

At first, all she felt was heartbreak, raw and overwhelming, the kind of sadness that made her chest feel hollow and heavy all at once. There was anger too, bubbling beneath the surface, but she pushed it down, unwilling to let him see that part of her. Tara told herself that staying calm was the only way to keep control of the situation, even as she listened to him try to explain himself.

He had said he didn't feel the same anymore, that something between them had changed. He wasn't sure when it had happened, but he no longer felt the love they once had. His voice had been quiet, hesitant, as if he didn't want to hurt her more than he already was. He told her it wasn't her fault, that she'd been a great girlfriend and that he still cared about her.

The words sounded like they should've been comforting, but they weren't. They only made her feel worse. Love didn't just disappear, did it? And if it did, what did that say about her? She couldn't wrap her head around how everything could change so quickly, how something that had seemed so solid could slip through her fingers without warning.

For days after the breakup, she replayed his words in her mind, searching for some clue, some sign she might have missed. The sadness lingered, a constant ache she couldn't shake, and when the anger flared, she shoved it back down where it belonged. It wouldn't change anything, and it wouldn't bring him back.

At first, she thought heartbreak was all she'd have to contend with. But then, as the days stretched into weeks, another feeling began to creep in—something darker, sharper, and impossible to ignore.

That dark, sharper, and impossible-to-ignore feeling had only grown worse. In fact, it had become unbearable when she saw Chad a few weeks later.

With you.

She hadn't been prepared for it. In hindsight, maybe she should've been. They had gone to the same school—it had only been a matter of time before she ran into him again. But Tara hadn't expected him to look so... fine. Like nothing had happened. Like breaking up with her hadn't fazed him in the slightest. And she especially hadn't expected to see him with someone else.

You had been standing next to him near the lockers, your body slightly turned toward his as you spoke. She hadn't been able to hear what you were saying, but whatever it had been, it had made him laugh. That same, familiar laugh that had once been hers to hear.

Her chest had tightened, the weight of it pressing down on her like a physical force. It had been the first time she had seen him since the breakup, and heartbreak hadn't been what she had felt then. No, it had been something else entirely. It had been hot and all-consuming, curling its way through her like wildfire.

Her gaze had locked on the way you had reached out, your fingers briefly brushing his arm as you spoke. It had been such a casual, effortless gesture, but to Tara, it had felt deliberate. She had clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as she had struggled to steady her breathing.

She hadn't wanted to look at you. She hadn't wanted to acknowledge the way your presence, your closeness to Chad, had made her feel. But she hadn't been able to tear her eyes away.

It hadn't been fair. Chad wasn't supposed to move on so quickly. He wasn't supposed to look this happy, not when she had still been trying to piece herself back together. And you—God, you hadn't been supposed to be so... perfect. So at ease, standing there with him like you had belonged.

Tara's stomach had churned, a bitter taste rising in her throat. The feeling bubbling inside her had been almost painfully familiar, a twisted echo of the jealousy she had felt as a child.

She could still remember the heat of it, the way it had burned through her tiny body when someone had gotten the last cookie in class or taken the swing she had wanted on the playground.

Back then, her jealousy had been wild and unrestrained, often spilling out as anger—pushing, hitting, shouting until someone had intervened.

But this hadn't been the same. She wasn't a kid anymore, and she had known better than to lash out. And yet, the anger had simmered beneath the surface, waiting for her to slip, to let it spill over.

Her jaw had tightened as she had forced herself to look away, her fists clenching at her sides. Chad hadn't been hers anymore, she had reminded herself, no matter how much she had wanted him to be.

She hadn't had the right to feel this way, to be so consumed by jealousy over someone who had clearly moved on.

But knowing that hadn't made it stop. The jealousy had still been there, sharp and unrelenting, twisting inside her like a knife.

It had dug in deeper with every passing day, lodging itself in a part of her she didn't know how to reach, let alone remove.

It didn't help that Tara knew exactly who you were. Of course she did—everyone in Woodsboro seemed to know everyone.

The town was too small for anyone to go unnoticed, their business too easily whispered about or pieced together.

She had known who you were since kindergarten, though, in moments like these, it felt like a cruel twist of fate that you hadn't been one of the kids she'd shoved in a fit of childish rage.

Maybe if you had been, she wouldn't feel so powerless now. She could have at least claimed to have gotten her frustration out once, a long time ago. But no. You had been one of the few to escape her younger wrath, and somehow that made this worse.

It wasn't just that, though. Tara couldn't think about you without hearing her mother's voice in the back of her mind, muttering something about how she wished Tara were "more like you."

Her mother said things like that about plenty of kids, especially when Tara landed herself in trouble at school. But the way she spoke about you had always felt different—like she meant it.

You were polite, diligent, the kind of kid parents liked to hold up as an example. Tara had hated it back then, hearing those comparisons tossed her way whenever she acted out. Now, remembering it made her blood boil.

You weren't a stranger to her. Not really. How could you be when Wes had spent all of middle school hopelessly infatuated with you? His crush had been embarrassingly obvious, even to people who weren't paying attention.

Tara remembered the way he'd stumble through his sentences whenever you so much as glanced in his direction. How he'd linger near your locker as though working up the courage to say something, only to turn red and scurry off when Amber caught him at it.

Amber had loved teasing him for it. She'd nudge his arm and whisper loud enough for everyone to hear, calling him love-struck and pitiful. And Tara? She'd roll her eyes and laugh right along with her.

She hadn't understood the appeal back then. Sure, you were nice. Polite, from what people said. But to Tara, you'd just been another person in the hallways, someone she could name but not care much about. Wes's hopeless pining had been little more than background noise to her.

But now... now that memory left a bitter taste in her mouth.

Not that she'd ever had a real problem with you. If anything, she'd been indifferent toward you all these years. You were nice, she supposed. Everyone said so, and it wasn't hard to believe.

You dressed well enough to stand out without trying too hard, cared enough about your grades to keep them respectable, and generally managed to avoid any kind of trouble. There wasn't much about you that people could complain about.

Tara hadn't spoken to you much. Maybe a couple of times, when group projects forced you together or when politeness demanded it. But it had never gone beyond that, never lingered in a way that mattered. You were a passing presence, just one of the many faces she'd seen over the years, easily forgotten once you were out of sight.

At least, that was how it used to be.

Now, it felt like you were everywhere. And worse, you weren't just a face in the crowd anymore. You were always laughing, always smiling, always looking so damn perfect. And you weren't alone. You were with Chad. His arm slung around your shoulders like you were his.

And that, Tara couldn't ignore.

You were with her Chad. Her boyfriend.

Or at least, that's what her mind insisted on calling him, despite the breakup. Despite everything. He was still hers. He had to be. There was no way he wasn't, not when she could still feel the ghost of his hand in hers, not when her chest tightened every time she thought about him laughing at something you said. It wasn't right. It didn't feel right.

You didn't belong under his arm like that. You didn't belong anywhere near him.

Tara's jaw clenched as the image burned itself deeper into her memory: the way his arm had draped over your shoulders so effortlessly, like it was the most natural thing in the world. It wasn't. It couldn't be. That spot was hers—had been hers for so long that seeing anyone else there made her stomach twist with something jagged and unbearable.

And it didn't help that you didn't even look good there. Not to her, anyway. You didn't fit the way she did. You didn't mold into his side like you belonged there, not like she had. Chad was tall, broad-shouldered, and Tara had always thought they looked balanced together. She'd fit neatly under his arm, a perfect complement to his size and presence. You? You just looked... wrong.

At least, that's what she told herself as her eyes lingered on you for too long, darting between the way you smiled at him and the way he smiled back at you.

Her chest tightened further, the edges of her jealousy sharpening with every second.

She tried to tell herself not to care. Really, she did. She told herself that it didn't matter anymore, that Chad wasn't hers, that this—whatever this was—wasn't her business. He had every right to move on. She even tried repeating it in her head, like some kind of mantra: It’s over, it’s over, it’s over.

But it didn't work. It never worked.

It wasn't just the jealousy, though that was certainly the loudest emotion screaming in her chest. It was the helplessness that came with it. The same helplessness she'd felt back in kindergarten, when that dark, fiery feeling had bubbled up inside her and she hadn't known what to do with it. Back then, she'd pushed people, shoved them, let her rage and frustration spill out in any way it could.

Now? Now she was older. Supposedly more mature. She was supposed to be able to handle her emotions, wasn't she? But standing there, watching Chad lean into you, laugh at something you said like it was the funniest thing in the world, Tara felt that same fiery frustration rise in her chest.

She didn't shove people anymore—didn't let that dark feeling spill out like she used to—but that didn't mean it wasn't still there, simmering just below the surface. And now, as she stood frozen in the hallway, all of it—every last ounce of it—was directed at you.

Because you didn't belong there.

You didn't belong with Chad.

You didn't belong in the picture she still couldn't stop replaying in her head: you laughing at something he said, him pulling you closer, the two of you looking... happy.

Tara bit the inside of her cheek, hard enough to taste blood. She told herself to turn away, to stop looking, to let it go. But it was impossible. Just like it had been when she was five years old, that feeling burned too brightly, clawed at her too viciously to ignore.

And now, as she stared at you from across the hallway, she realized she didn't know how to make it stop.

She couldn't stop seeing it—couldn't stop feeling it. You and him. It was burned into her mind, an image so vivid it felt like it had been seared there with a branding iron. Every time she closed her eyes, it was there. You and Chad. Laughing together. Holding hands. Kissing.

Tara's hands clenched into fists at her sides. She hated it. She hated you.

She hated the way you were always smiling, like you didn't have a care in the world. She hated the way you stood so close to him every day, the way his arm so casually rested on your shoulders. She hated the way you looked at him, and the way he looked at you. Like you were the only person in the room. Like you were perfect.

You weren't even that cute. That's what she tried to tell herself, over and over again. You weren't anything special. There were plenty of other girls in Woodsboro prettier than you, smarter than you, more interesting than you.

But it was a lie.

Because you were beautiful.

You were effortlessly beautiful in a way that made Tara's stomach churn. She hated the fact that she couldn't use your looks as an excuse. She hated how good you looked with Chad, how perfect you seemed together, how easy it was to see why he'd chosen you.

And that made her hatred burn even brighter.

Most nights, she couldn't sleep. The second her head hit the pillow, her mind would start spinning, and the thoughts would creep in—dark, ugly thoughts that wrapped around her like a vice. She could see it so clearly, almost like it was happening right in front of her.

You touching him in places she was supposed to touch. You undressing him, his hands roaming over your body instead of hers. You kissing him, making him moan, sitting on top of him—doing all the things she was supposed to do.

It made her blood boil. It made her want to scream.

The images were relentless, vivid and visceral, and every one of them felt like a knife twisting deeper into her chest. Sometimes, the anger was so sharp it made her want to claw at her own skin, like she could rip the feeling out of herself if she just tried hard enough.

But no matter what she did, no matter how hard she tried to push the thoughts away, they always came back. They stayed with her, haunting her like a ghost she couldn't escape.

And every time, the hatred burned hotter.

It wasn't fair. You weren't supposed to have him. You weren't supposed to be in his arms, weren't supposed to hear his laugh up close, weren't supposed to know what his lips felt like. You didn't deserve any of it. You didn't deserve him.

He was hers. He'd always been hers.

But now, he wasn't.

And it was all because of you.

And this wasn't like any other time. Not even close.

Tara had always known her temper was a problem. She'd been told that enough times growing up—by her teachers, by her mom, by anyone who'd had the misfortune of crossing her when she was angry. But this? This was different.

She'd never felt this way before.

She'd tried everything to stop it, to keep herself from unraveling. Everything her mom had suggested back when she'd first started noticing how intense Tara's outbursts could be. Taking deep breaths, counting to ten, picturing a happy place—none of it worked. It never had.

And when her mom's suggestions fell flat, Tara had turned to the internet, searching desperately for anything that might help. Techniques to control anger, ways to keep herself calm, tips to avoid losing her temper. She'd read every article she could find, watched every video, tried every trick. Not because she cared about managing her emotions—no, she just wanted to avoid her mom forcing her into some anger management program or therapy session she'd be stuck in for months.

But now? Now, she couldn't even pretend to have control. Nothing worked. Nothing.

Her heart pounded in her chest, her skin prickled with heat, and the jealousy burned so hot and sharp that she felt like she was coming apart at the seams. It wasn't just anger anymore. It was something else entirely, something darker and more consuming.

Tara felt insane.

Because no matter what she did, no matter how hard she tried to push it down or ignore it, the feeling wouldn't go away. It wrapped around her like a second skin, suffocating and unbearable, until there was only one thought left in her mind:

She had to get rid of you.

It wasn't even a question anymore. It was a fact, plain and simple. There was no other way to fix this, no other way to make the feelings stop. You had to go.

At first, Tara thought about spreading a rumor or two. Nothing big, just enough to make you and Chad fight. Enough to plant a seed of doubt, to tear apart whatever connection you had with him. It sounded perfect at first—until she realized how easily it could blow up in her face.

Chad would figure it out eventually. He'd find out Tara was behind it, and then she'd lose any chance of getting him back.

She thought about telling you to leave, to move away, to go anywhere but here. But that was ridiculous. You'd never listen.

She thought about kidnapping you.

The thought came and went so quickly it almost startled her. For a split second, her mind flickered to the idea of forcing you out of the picture entirely, taking control in a way that left no room for argument.

But no. That was insane.

...Wasn't it?

Tara clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms hard enough to hurt. She was spiraling. She knew it. But she couldn't stop.

Nothing else would work. Nothing except you being gone.

She didn't know how, she didn't know when, but Tara knew one thing with absolute certainty:

You couldn't stay.

You didn't belong here. You didn't belong with Chad. You didn't belong anywhere near him, near her, near this town.

You didn't belong anywhere.

And Tara? Tara was going to make sure of it.

She toyed with possibilities. But none of them seemed right.

Kidnapping you crossed her mind more than once though. Briefly.

But it was stupid, insane.

Because what would she do when she had you?

Just keep you there?

It seemed suiting, but it wouldn't work out.

But she couldn't help thinking it—if only because she was running out of options.

And then, the thought hit her. It came out of nowhere, sharp and sudden, like a knife to the gut.

She could kill you.

At first, the thought had hit her like a slap to the face, sharp and jarring in its absurdity. It had seemed insane. Because it was insane. What kind of person even thought something like that, let alone seriously considered it?

But as the days dragged on, the idea didn't fade. If anything, it took root. The more Tara thought about it, the less insane it seemed. Her anger, that relentless, boiling rage, started to simmer. It didn't disappear entirely—not even close—but it

lessened.

For the first time in weeks, she could breathe.

The idea itself was enough at first. She didn't need to act on it. Just thinking about it was enough to bring her some semblance of peace. She let the fantasy play out in her mind like a sick little movie: you, out of the picture, gone forever. It didn't matter how or when—just that it happened.

And for a few days, she was happy with just that. She let herself exist in that space, in the calm that came with imagining a world where you didn't exist. A weekend of relative peace, of daydreams that made her anger feel manageable.

But then Monday came.

And Tara saw you again.

You were standing in the hallway, smiling up at Chad like he was the only person in the world. His arm was slung casually around your shoulders, his head tilted toward yours in that stupid, familiar way that made Tara's stomach twist.

It was like being set on fire all over again.

Her chest burned, her vision blurred, and that fleeting peace she'd found over the weekend vanished in an instant. The rage came roaring back, hotter and more vicious than ever, tearing through her like a wildfire.

Because the thought of you being gone wasn't enough anymore. Not when you were right there, so close, so perfect, so fucking smug without even trying.

Tara's fists clenched at her sides, her nails digging into her palms until they left crescent-shaped indents. Her jaw tightened, her teeth grinding as she stared at you, as she watched you.

You didn't belong there. You didn't belong under his arm. You didn't belong anywhere near him.

And now? Now, Tara knew what she had to do.

It wasn't a matter of if anymore. It was a matter of when.

Because just thinking about it wasn't enough. Not anymore.

She was going to kill you.

And she was going to feel better for it.

___

Tara had everything prepared.

The thought of it had consumed her, growing like a rock inside her chest, feeding off her every waking moment until it was impossible to ignore.

And now, it was time.

She had spent days balancing on the edge of dread and longing, torn between the weight of what she was about to do and the twisted satisfaction she knew it would bring. It wasn't something she wanted—not really. But it was something she had to do. The only way to end the torment that had been eating away at her since the moment she saw you with him.

So Tara had done her research, gathering every scrap of information she could. She watched you closely—closer than ever. She had listened, observed, bided her time until the perfect opportunity revealed itself.

And it had.

It had been math class on Monday afternoon, and Tara had been lucky enough to snag a seat directly behind you and your friends. Normally, she would've tuned out your conversation entirely, drowning it in her thoughts. But this time, she had leaned in, careful to catch every word.

You'd been talking about the upcoming math test, about how you'd be studying for it Wednesday afternoon. Alone.

Your parents were going to be at some lame work conference, and they'd decided to take your younger brother along to make a trip out of it. You'd rolled your eyes as you explained how stupid it all sounded, but Tara hadn't cared about your opinion.

All she cared about was the opening.

You'd be home. Alone.

It was perfect.

Tara's pencil had hovered over her notebook as she pretended to take notes, but her mind wasn't on algebra. It was spinning with possibilities, with plans, with the kind of clarity that had eluded her for weeks.

When the bell rang and you left the room with your friends, Tara sat frozen in her seat for a moment, her fists clenched around the edge of her desk. The pounding in her chest felt louder than the shuffle of students leaving the classroom, louder than the voices in the hallway.

Because now, it wasn't just an idea.

It was a plan.

Wednesday. After school. It would be done.

And finally, finally, she would feel better.

Wednesday came, and Tara felt something she hadn't in weeks. Happiness.

It wasn't the fleeting, muted kind that came and went without leaving a trace. No, this was sharp, visceral, alive. She could feel it buzzing beneath her skin, coiling around her chest like a warm, electric current.

She didn't remember the last time she'd woken up this excited. It was like every nerve in her body had been lit aflame, pushing her through the motions of her morning routine with a sense of purpose she hadn't felt in so long.

Because today was the day.

Every second that ticked by brought her closer to it. To you. To the end of the endless cycle of rage and jealousy that had consumed her. She could picture it already—vivid, perfect, satisfying.

You'd be scared, of course. How could you not be? She imagined the way your eyes would widen, the way you'd stammer out a pathetic plea. You'd try to push her off, scramble for an escape, but it wouldn't work.

It wouldn't work because you were weak. You weren't like her. You didn't know what it meant to fight, to claw your way through something until you got what you wanted. You'd crumble like paper.

And then you'd be gone.

She could see the aftermath so clearly it almost felt real. Chad, walking through the school corridors alone, his shoulders slumped with the weight of grief. His face twisted in pain as he thought about you.

And then—then he'd come back to her. He had to. It was inevitable, wasn't it? He'd remember how good things were with her, how much better they could be now that you were out of the picture. He'd pull himself to her, broken but needing her to put him back together.

It was all Tara could think about.

The entire day felt like a blur, her mind too preoccupied to focus on anything else. Teachers droned on and on about tests and essays, classmates chatted about meaningless things, but none of it mattered. Nothing mattered except what was waiting for her after school.

And yet, the anger was still there.

It simmered beneath the surface, coiled tight in her chest, a constant reminder that nothing was done yet. You were still there, still laughing and smiling and making her blood boil with every second that passed.

In English class, she caught sight of you leaning over Chad's desk, your voice low as you explained something to him. Grammar, maybe. Whatever it was, Tara didn't care.

What she cared about was the way he was looking at you. That stupid, soft smile, the same one he used to give her.

It made her stomach turn.

You didn’t even know what you were doing, she thought bitterly, her fists clenching beneath her desk. You didn't know him. You didn't know how to help him, not like she did. You weren't supposed to be there, leaning over his shoulder, pointing at his textbook like you had any idea what you were doing.

Tara's jaw tightened, her teeth grinding together as she stared at the two of you.

But it was fine. It wouldn't matter soon enough.

By the time the final bell rang, she was practically buzzing with anticipation, her hands trembling as she shoved her books into her bag.

Because today was the day.

And by the time it was over, you'd be gone. Forever.

By the time last period rolled around, Tara could barely contain herself. She was bouncing her leg under the desk, the rapid up-and-down movement making the surface wobble slightly. It wasn't stress, though. Not even close.

It was excitement.

Because in just a few hours, everything would be different. You'd be gone.

She'd spent the entire day anticipating this moment, and now that it was so close, she could hardly breathe. Her chest felt tight, but not in the way it used to when the anger consumed her. This was something else—something electric, like a firework waiting to explode.

When the bell finally rang for the last time that day, Tara practically shot out of her seat. Her heart was pounding, her pulse thrumming in her ears as she sprinted to her locker, dodging through the crowded hallway like her life depended on it.

She grabbed her things in a flurry, barely paying attention to what she was stuffing into her bag. The details didn't matter. Nothing mattered except getting out of there as quickly as possible.

The walk home was a blur. She couldn't even remember the route she took, but she knew it was fast because she'd gotten there in record time. She practically burst through the door of the apartment, slamming it shut behind her with a force that rattled the frame.

The space was empty, just as she'd hoped. Sam wasn't home, probably still at the café down the street where she worked long shifts most afternoons.

Tara didn't waste any time. She stormed into her room, yanking her bag off her shoulder and dumping its contents onto the bed. Books, hair ties, pens, and random scraps of paper spilled out in a messy heap. She didn't bother organizing any of it, her focus locked on what came next.

She started packing what she'd need instead.

First came the basics: a pair of gloves she'd swiped from the closet, a small hand towel, and a few cleaning supplies she'd found under the sink. Just in case.

Then there was the book. She'd borrowed it from the library earlier that day, an afterthought at the time, but now it served a purpose. If anyone asked what she'd been doing when you turned up dead, she'd have an alibi.

And then there was the knife.

Tara headed to the kitchen, her hands trembling slightly as she opened the drawer where Sam kept the cutlery. She stared at the knives for a moment, her breathing shallow as she considered her options.

Finally, she picked one.

It wasn't the largest or the sharpest, but it felt solid in her grip. Familiar, almost.

She held it for a moment, staring down at the blade as it caught the light. Her reflection stared back at her, warped and fragmented in the metal, but she didn't flinch.

She took a deep breath, steadying herself before tucking the knife into her bag.

This was it.

She was ready.

Tara zipped her bag shut and slung it over her shoulder, not even sparing a second thought for the knife or the other incriminating items inside. Evidence of what was about to happen was tucked away in plain sight, but the thought didn't concern her. Why would it? She wasn't going to get caught.

She paused in the doorway of the apartment, pulling out her phone to double-check the address one last time. It was burned into her memory by now, but a quick glance wouldn't hurt. She'd found it easily enough a week ago, scouring the school directory that had been left out in the counselor's office during one of her "mandatory check-ins." Your address had been listed next to your emergency contacts, all neatly typed out.

Perfect.

Satisfied, she slipped her phone back into her pocket and stepped out into the hallway. The stairwell echoed with her footsteps as she made her way down, each step slow and deliberate. She wasn't in a rush. Not yet.

The walk to your house wasn't short, but it wasn't unbearably long either. Just far enough to give her plenty of time to think, to imagine, to savor the anticipation building in her chest like a drug.

Tara was thrilled.

Not just because of what she was about to do, but because of how clever she'd been about it. The idea had struck her like lightning, and the more she thought about it, the more genius it seemed. She wasn't just solving a problem—she was removing it, erasing it entirely.

As she walked, her thoughts grew darker, more vivid. She pictured you in front of her, on your knees, crying and begging her to stop. But she wouldn't stop. She'd pin you down with a strength you couldn't fight against, her hands steady, her resolve unshakable.

Her gaze flicked down to her white Converse, and she pictured them splattered with red. Blood staining the canvas, dripping onto the pavement, marking every step she took.

She imagined your blood on her hands, warm and slick, streaked across her fingers like war paint. She pictured your face as she hovered over you, the way your eyes would widen with fear, the way your mouth would open to scream—only to be silenced.

The image sent a thrill through her, a jolt of satisfaction that made her grin.

To anyone else, these thoughts would be horrifying. Disturbing. Insane.

But to Tara, they were... liberating.

She couldn't wait.

Tara had dreamt about this moment. Every detail had been mapped out in her mind, as vivid and meticulous as if it had already happened. She hadn't missed a single thing while planning it.

She knew exactly how it would go.

You'd answer the door, your steps light as they always seemed to be. When the door swung open, you'd greet her with that confused little smile, the one that would tug at the corner of your lips as you tried to figure out what she was doing there.

She could already imagine the polite mask you'd pull on, hiding the confusion behind your soft smile as you asked—probably in that gentle, saccharine voice Chad loved so much—what she was doing at your house.

And Tara would match your politeness, feigning a warm, almost apologetic smile as she began to speak. She'd tell you that you'd left the classroom before the teacher had a chance to hand you a paper—a makeup assignment for the math test you were apparently struggling with. She'd tell you how she'd volunteered to bring it to you, mentioning offhandedly that your house was "on the way" to hers.

It wasn't.

But you were probably stupid enough to believe it.

Tara could almost see the way you'd nod, your suspicion melting away as you stepped aside to let her in. And that's when she'd set her plan into motion.

She'd unzip her bag slowly, her movements deliberate, casual, as if she really were pulling out a sheet of paper. She'd even keep talking, her voice calm, explaining how the assignment wasn't that difficult, just a review of material you should already know.

But when her hand came out of the bag, it wouldn't be holding any paper.

It would be holding the knife.

The image was so clear in her mind, so vivid that it felt real. She could see the shock on your face, the way your smile would drop, the way your eyes would widen. She'd let you stand there, frozen and clueless, for just a moment before she lunged.

The first stab would be quick, precise. She'd aim for your stomach, the blade plunging in before you had a chance to react. And as you stumbled back, clutching at the wound, she'd step inside, closing the door behind her with her free hand.

It wouldn't stop there. It couldn't.

She'd keep going, stabbing again and again, her movements frenzied but deliberate, each strike fueled by the rage that had been festering inside her for weeks.

By the time you hit the floor, Tara would already be kneeling over you, her knife rising and falling with a terrifying rhythm.

She'd finish it. Completely.

Tara found herself smirking at the thought, her steps quickening as she neared your street. The plan played out in her head like a movie she'd already watched a hundred times, each scene perfectly clear, perfectly executed.

The thought of it all—the fear in your eyes, the blood on her hands, the peace that would finally follow—was almost enough to make her laugh.

By the time she reached your street, her smirk had settled into something more fixed, more certain. The weight of the knife in her bag wasn't something she second-guessed. There was no hesitation in her steps, no flicker of doubt in her mind. She had played this moment over so many times that it felt inevitable, like she was simply walking through a prewritten script.

And then she saw your house.

That perfect, suburban home—one of those places that looked like it had been plucked from a family sitcom. The kind of house where nothing bad was ever supposed to happen. The driveway was empty, just like it was supposed to be. No parents home. No witnesses. But that didn't matter.

What mattered was that you had all of this.

Tara felt her stomach twist in something that wasn't quite anger, wasn't quite jealousy, but a poisonous mix of both. The house itself was nice—not a mansion, but big enough that she knew you had space that was yours. No sharing. No constantly moving from one place to another. You had stability. The porch light was already on despite the sun still clinging to the sky, because you had parents who actually cared if you got home in the dark.

Parents who were probably normal.

Not like hers.

And it wasn't just the house. It was everything. The car parked on the curb—the one that she knew was yours and not some shared family vehicle. The way your front yard was neatly kept, the way there was a welcome mat in front of the door, the way it all screamed a life she never had.

It made her hate you even more.

But that hate only made her more certain. Because soon, none of it would matter. Your perfect house, your caring parents, your stupid little car—they would all be meaningless.

Soon, the only thing you'd have was a gravestone with your name carved into it.

And that made her happy.

Tara forced herself to relax as she walked up the front steps, adjusting her bag on her shoulder. She let out a slow breath, schooling her expression into something neutral. She wasn't just about to commit murder—no, she was just a classmate doing a favor, dropping off an assignment.

The thought almost made her laugh.

She reached the front door, lifting a fist and knocking twice against the wood.

The house was quiet. Peaceful.

But soon, Tara imagined, it would be fuller.

Fuller with screams.

And then—she heard it.

A soft, thoughtless hum from the other side of the door. Light, airy, clueless.

Her hands twitched at her sides, damp with sweat before she even realized it. A sick, twisted heat pooled in her stomach, curling around her ribs like a vice, because for the first time all day, something foreign crawled up her spine.

Nerves.

Real, undeniable, nerves.

She clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms.

No. No. That wasn't right. She had waited for this.

She had planned, dreamed, prepared for this exact moment. She was supposed to feel good. Excited.

Not like this.

Not like her body had turned against her.

Tara's jaw tightened, anger sparking white-hot beneath her skin, because that was your fault, too.

Of course, it was.

You were the one who made her feel this way. You were the reason her mind had been tangled in knots for weeks, the reason she couldn't breathe without choking on the thought of you, the reason everything felt so wrong.

And that was why she was here.

She sucked in a sharp breath, planting her feet firmly on the doorstep, pushing the shaking from her hands, the sweat from her palms.

Because it didn't matter.

It didn't matter that her heart was hammering against her ribs. It didn't matter that her mind was racing.

All that mattered was that you were coming.

And then—

A quiet shuffle of footsteps.

Closer.

Tara's stomach twisted.

Another step.

And another.

The shadow of movement from behind the glass.

And then—

The door clicked as the lock turned.

The handle shifted.

And Tara stopped breathing.

The door swung open.

And there you were.

Tara didn't know what she had expected. She had run through this moment in her head too many times to count, had pictured every detail—the way you'd react, the way she'd feel, the way it would finally happen. But none of those versions had prepared her for the real thing.

Because the real thing was you—standing there, so normal, so alive in a way that made something tighten in her chest.

You hadn't even looked to see who it was before your lips curled into a soft, polite smile, like answering the door and finding someone waiting for you was just another part of your evening. Like she was just another part of your evening.

And Tara—

Tara froze.

Her grip tightened around the strap of her bag, fingers stiff, nails pressing into her palm. The weight of it suddenly felt too heavy, dragging her down, pinning her in place.

You weren't looking at her yet, not fully, but she could see the moment it registered. The way your eyes flickered, widening just a little before settling, before you adjusted.

Tara swallowed hard, throat dry.

She hadn't planned for this—for the way time seemed to slow, for the way her pulse slammed against her ribs, not in anger but in something else, something unreadable. She had prepared for every possible scenario, had thought through every single step. She knew exactly what she had to do.

So why the fuck wasn't she doing it?

Why was she standing there, frozen, when this was exactly what she had been waiting for?

Her stomach twisted, a sick, sudden nausea creeping in.

She had to say something.

She had to move.

But she just stood there, staring.

It was like her body had short-circuited, her mind blanking out in a way it never did. She had pictured this moment a hundred times, had mapped it out in her head with a precision so sharp it felt real—but now? Now, standing in front of you, with your stupid soft smile and your wide, expectant eyes, everything felt wrong.

She was supposed to have control.

She was supposed to speak first.

But before she could force a single word out of her mouth—

"Oh my God, Tara!"

Your voice hit her like a slap to the face.

Not just because of the voice—bright, warm, too friendly for what this moment was meant to be—but because of how you said her name.

Wrong.

You stretched out the A like it belonged there, like you had never even considered the right way to say it.

Tara's stomach twisted, her nose scrunching slightly before she could stop it.

She hated when people did that.

It wasn't even complicated. It wasn't hard.

Tara. Short. Sharp. Simple.

Why the fuck would it be anything else?

But then—before she could even say anything, before she could snap at you the way she wanted to—you noticed.

Not in the way most people did.

You didn't fumble over yourself, didn't look nervous, didn't react like someone who had just made a mistake in front of the wrong person.

No.

You just... realized.

"Oh—sorry. It's Tara, right?"

And this time, you said it right.

Tara felt something hot crawl up her spine.

You didn't wait for her to correct you.

You didn’t need her to tell you you were wrong.

You figured it out on your own.

And yet, you still smiled.

"I'm sorry, I totally suck at names," you added, your voice easy, a small, amused sigh slipping through a quiet giggle.

A giggle.

Like this was nothing.

Like you weren't standing in your doorway, staring at someone who had come here to kill you.

Tara's grip on her bag tightened.

You weren't nervous.

Not even a little.

Why weren't you nervous?

You were supposed to be. Yet she was the one that was.

Tara didn't know what the fuck was happening to her.

This wasn't right.

She was supposed to be in control. She was supposed to be sharp, precise, already halfway inside your house by now, setting her plan into motion.

But instead, she stood there.

Frozen.

Silent.

She couldn't speak.

Her body acted before her mind caught up, lips pressing together in something barely resembling a smile. Thin. Tense. Fake.

"It's fine," she mumbled, her voice lower than she intended.

It wasn't fine.

Nothing about this was fine.

And yet, you still didn't ask her what she was doing here.

You didn't look suspicious. You didn't hesitate. You didn't ask.

Tara could feel something bubbling in her chest, frustration twisting in with something else, something hotter, sharper.

Why weren't you asking?

Why weren't you wary?

Why weren't you treating her like a stranger who had no reason to be on your doorstep?

But before she could dwell on it for too long, your face lit up even more—

And you started talking.

"I've actually been wanting to speak to you for a while."

Your voice was too warm. Too light.

Tara's jaw clenched.

"This whole thing with Chad..."

You trailed off, tucking a bit of hair behind your ear, tilting your head ever so slightly as your eyes flicked to her face—

Waiting.

Waiting to see if she reacted to his name.

And fuck, she did.

She hated that she did.

But you didn't seem to notice.

Or maybe you did, but you didn't care.

You just continued, words spilling out like you had been holding them in for too long.

"I wanted to ask if you guys were fine before... yeah, you know."

Tara didn't need you to finish that sentence.

She knew exactly what you meant.

Before you.

Before Chad moved on.

Before you ruined everything.

Her nails dug into the strap of her bag.

And still, you didn't stop talking.

"I know we're not friends and barely know each other," you admitted, still looking at her with that same softness. That genuine fucking softness that made her stomach twist in ways it shouldn't.

"But you're really nice," you went on.

Tara almost laughed at that.

Nice.

You thought she was nice.

And then—

"I just didn't want to make you uncomfortable or, you know... secretly hate me."

The way you said it was almost casual, like it was just a thought, something light, something small—

But Tara felt her heartbeat slam against her ribs.

You didn't know.

You had no idea.

And for the first time since she got here, she felt a flicker of something close to panic.

You didn't hate her.

You weren't afraid of her.

You thought she was nice.

What the fuck was she supposed to do with that?

Tara tried to reason with herself.

If she just did it now, everything would be fine.

If she just said what she planned to say, if she reached for her bag, if she pulled out the knife instead—

It would be over.

It would be done.

You would be nothing but a mess on the floor, and Chad would be devastated, and he would come crawling back, and everything would go back to how it was supposed to be.

So why wasn't she moving?

Her fingers twitched against the strap of her bag, but her body stayed rooted to the spot.

She wanted to.

Oh, how she wanted to.

She had dreamed about this moment.

Had imagined the way you'd look at her—terrified, confused, realizing too late what was about to happen.

She had longed for it.

And yet—

She couldn't.

For some stupid, inexplicable reason, she couldn't.

Something in her wouldn't let her.

What the fuck was she even thinking earlier?

Why did she think this would be easy?

Why did she think she could just walk up here and do it like it was nothing?

Her head felt too full, a war raging behind her eyes, pushing, pulling, twisting.

She wasn't supposed to hesitate.

She wasn't supposed to second-guess herself.

She was supposed to kill you.

So why was it suddenly feeling impossible?

You studied her face as she stood there, silent.

To you, it probably looked like she was still hurt over Chad.

Like she was standing here, struggling to find the right words, caught up in old feelings she hadn't moved past yet.

And when she didn't answer, you didn't take it the way you should have.

You didn't question why she was just standing there.

You didn't wonder why she was looking at you like that, like something wasn't clicking in her head.

Instead—you invited her in.

You stepped back, opening the door a little wider, glancing at her with the same warm expression you had greeted her with.

"Do you want to come inside?"

Tara blinked.

For a second, she thought she misheard you.

But you weren't kidding.

You were actually letting her in.

You, the person she had been planning to kill, were offering to welcome her into your home.

You didn't even know her.

And when she didn't immediately respond, you just smiled a little and added, "Only if you want to."

That was it.

No hesitation. No suspicion. No fear.

Why weren't you scared of her?

Why weren't you acting like someone who was about to die?

Her fingers clenched tighter around the strap of her bag.

She should leave.

She should end this.

She should do what she came here to do.

And yet—

Almost without thinking, she found herself nodding.

Slowly, stiffly.

And then she was stepping inside.

Her body was acting on its own, ignoring the part of her mind still screaming at her to just fucking do it already.

She heard you close the door behind her.

She stood there, fists tightening at her sides, eyes flickering around your house—your nice, warm, safe house that made her sick.

And then you were talking again, so casually, so easily.

"I'm trying to study for the math test, but it's not going really well."

You let out a small, light laugh, like this was nothing.

Like she was just a friend stopping by instead of a fucking killer in your home.

Tara didn't know why she followed you.

Why her feet carried her further inside instead of turning around and doing what she was supposed to do.

She barely processed the way you walked ahead of her, leading her through the house like she belonged there.

Like she wasn't holding a knife in her bag.

Like she wasn't planning to use it.

Her fingers curled tighter around the strap, knuckles aching from the pressure, but she still didn't stop.

She stepped past the entryway, eyes flickering over everything she could see—the framed artwork on the walls, the coat rack near the door, the way the house smelled warm, lived in. There was something painfully normal about all of it. Too normal. It made her stomach turn.

And then her gaze landed on it.

The photo sitting neatly on the shelf above the couch.

She didn't mean to stop. Didn't mean to let her focus linger. But she did.

It was you.

Your family.

Your mom, your dad, your little brother.

All of you smiling, arms wrapped around each other like you had never known anything but happiness.

Her throat burned.

Her chest felt tight, like someone had wrapped their hands around her ribs and squeezed.

She didn't know why.

She didn't fucking know why.

All she knew was that she hated that picture.

Hated the way you had that.

Hated the way she couldn't even imagine a photo like that of her own family.

Most definitely not framed in the living room.

Her mouth pressed into a hard line, her grip tightening around the strap of her bag.

The weight of the knife sat heavy inside, like it was taunting her.

She should reach for it.

She should pull it out and remind herself why she was here.

But her body still wouldn't move.

And that made her furious.

Why the fuck was she just standing here?

Why wasn't she doing anything?

It would be so easy.

A few steps. A flick of her wrist.

Blood against the perfect little life you had.

A stain.

A reminder that nothing was ever really safe.

So why couldn't she do it?

Her fingers twitched at her sides.

Her pulse pounded in her ears, drowning out everything else—until your voice cut through the haze.

"Tara?"

She blinked.

Snapped back to the moment.

You were looking at her now, head slightly tilted, waiting for her to follow you further inside.

She forced her jaw to unclench, tearing her eyes away from the photo and moving again.

She followed you into the living room.

And that was when she saw the mess of notes and open notebooks spread out across the coffee table.

Pens scattered. Pages half-filled with numbers and formulas. Homework left abandoned mid-thought.

She stared.

She didn't even know why.

Maybe it was because it was so normal.

Like you had no idea what was standing right in front of you.

Like she wasn't supposed to be anything other than some classmate stopping by with an assignment.

Her fingers twitched against the strap of her bag.

Maybe if she just—

Your voice cut through the silence again, still light, still unbothered.

"You can sit down if you want."

You motioned toward the couch, as if this was just normal.

As if she wasn't standing in your house, her heart hammering, her mind completely unraveling.

Tara swallowed hard, forcing her feet forward.

One step.

Then another.

She made it halfway across the room before stopping again, her breath catching somewhere in her throat.

She shouldn't be here.

She shouldn't be doing this.

She should just grab the knife, should just do what she fucking came here to do.

But she couldn't.

And she didn’t know why.

[erinwantstowrite]

Could you tell me what you like about Stephanie and Cass as characters? I haven't read any of the comics so everything I know about the characters has come from fanfiction and every time they are in a fic they always feel so one dimensional and it really bothers me. Stephanie is always just talking about waffles or pulling pranks with glitter or being super nosey. And all Cass ever does is sneak around and pat people on the head and the only dialogue she ever has is something that feels like the author is infantilizing her. So many people like them and I know there is more to them as characters I just rarely find a fic they are included in where they feel as fleshed out as Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian, etc.

OH BUDDDYYYYYYY i was in the same boat for a while. i genuinely had no idea that they were far more involved in bat stuff than what they were in fics. they're so often overlooked (so is Duke) and it makes me crazy because they have SUCH amazing character concepts!!! they're still on my to-read list so i'm not an expert and this is just what i've gathered from my pre-requisite research, but!!!

stephanie is the daughter of one of Gotham's villains, the Cluemaster. she became the Spoiler because she wanted to be his opposite, wanted to be better than him. he was an abusive asshole, both physically and mentally, and Stephani even hates her blonde hair because it's the same color as her father's. she has a close relationship with her mother, who is still alive. Stephanie is incredibly intelligent and she deserved so much better when she took up the Robin mantle when Tim's father made him put it down. at some point in the comics, she got pregnant as a teen (not Tim's, but they were dating when they figured it out?? i think? she didn't cheat on him). she wanted to be a mom so badly and she loved her baby so much. the panels where she was dreaming of playing with her baby make me feel ill because she deserves the world. she had to give the baby up for adoption because she was so scared her father would find the baby and hurt/kill them, and she didn't let herself see the baby after they were born because she knew she'd want to keep them if she held them. she didn't even know if it was a born or girl. I'm pretty sure Bruce was the one who found the baby a good home somewhere where Stephanie's father can't find them. at some point, she "died" but it was really something she had to fake? for some reason? and she trained with a doctor i think (was it Leslie?) for a WHILE. Tim had no idea that this was faked and it kind of fucked him up but this ain't about him right now. she did actually die at some point and i'm pretty sure Cass was there with her, though i am hazy on if she was revived right away or later on

and Cass. god,,,, she was also a victim of her father, David Cain. her mother is Lady Shiva, who you might have seen mentioned in Tim fics. both are highly trained assassins and considered the best of the best. David raised Cass to not understand any spoken language, so she could not speak it for a very long time. the only language that she did know was the art of body language, and she had the ability to see things that so many other people can't. that's how she's able to pick up on most everything, so she was still incredibly intelligent. one day her father made her kill someone, her first ever kill, and what she saw in the man's dying body was so agonizing that it forever changed her. she was so horrified by what she had done that she refused to kill. (in my opinion, this makes her the best candidate for taking up Batman's position but the writers are cowards.) she either ran away or was sent away by her father? (this is where it starts getting hazy for me because i still have comics to read). i don't know what happened in between for sure, but she did end up learning how to speak and understand words, and i think it's a popular headcanon that it can sometimes overwhelm her so she sticks to one words or sign language for communication, but she CAN speak now. she considers Barbara to be like her mother, as Babs was the one who mentored her and took care of her. she's a very loving person and i think her friendship with Stephanie is sweet. even if you don't ship them, they're soulmates of some kind

that's about as much as i know but i'm still learning!! if any steph or cass fans want to add on to this, feel free to infodump here and mayhaps leave your comic recommendations? :3

[alessiathepirate]

Cobra Kai

TWO CAN PLAY THE GAME: Terry Silver x fem!reader

Summary: She knew him from '85. She knew how he functioned, how he was thinking. She'd beat him with his own technique - she was sure of it.

Notes: English isn't my first language. I apologize for any mistakes I may have made while I wrote this short story.

Warnings: swearing

●●●

A man can't stand, he can't fight.

A man can't breathe, he can't fight.

A man can't see, he can't fight.

She was watching the fight between Eli and Kenny play out as she continued to think about those rules, repeating them like a mantra. Her nails were digging into her upper arms through the material of her shirt as she tried to calm herself down.

You did what you could, she told herself. Even if you had to do that behind the true senseis' backs.

Daniel would've never let her do that - the same with Chozen, even if he had a slightly different view on karate. And Johnny... well, if she does it with him and Daniel figures it out, it would've lead to another fight between the two. And she really didn't want that to happen.

Besides, the kids came to her for help - since hiding the fact that she had something going on with Silver in '85 was hard to do, especially with teens around like Sam LaRusso. They were curious to know what had happened in the 80s - but they were more interested in how they should fight and win.

She didn't want them to get hurt, or worse: to be disappointed with themselves.

Damn it, they were her fucking kids and she was going to help them one way or another.

So she had taught them a thing or two about Terry Silver, and what kind of methods he may have taught for those mislead, Cobra Kai-obsessed kids after he took over.

It was only fair, she had told herself so it would feel less like a betrayal - a very dangerous one. Since Robby told them everything about their defence.

"The Quicksilver method has three rules: A man can't stand, he can't fight. A man can't breathe, he can't fight. A man can't see, he can't fight." she had told them after they met up in the park after it got dark.

"Did he really name it after himself?"

She had just laughed and nodded. "He's full of ego and he's an asshole, what can I say... However, what matters is that you know the right defence! They will go after three key points: feet, chest, eyes. These are also the areas you'll look out for the most. Is that understood?"

She grinned as Eli jumped back just in time to get away from Kenny's fist, which went straight for his chest. Then, he went for his feet and his eyes.

"The technique he wanted to use is simple: get a point from a hit on the head but go for the nose. He won't be able to see from the tears." she had explained as she showed Eli where to hit. "This is a dirty move, sure. But it's not against the rules and if they want to fight dirty, then you gotta be ready to protect yourselves and each other."

"Point, Moskowitz!"

Daniel looked at her from the corner of his eyes, but she didn't care. She just gave Eli a proud nod and continued to look at Terry who seemed to slowly catch on.

One rule of the Quicksilver not working? It could be a coincidence. Eli could be too good. But using two rules of it on the enemy while she's around? That's planned. It's a personal attack.

Terry looked at her from the other side of the dojo and clenched his jaw. She just smiled.

Two can play this game...

She sometimes wondered if she really hated him that much - there were times when it wasn't too obvious... Then she remembered how he played around with her before he disappeared, how he completely broke down a fucking teen she was supposed to be looking out for...

He broke her fucking heart.

Terry Silver can go and rot in the hole he climbed out from with Kreese's help.

"Is everything alright, sensei?"

She looked at Sam, who gave her a knowing smile.

"I'm not a sensei."

"That's not true."

She just chuckled. "He seemed to catch on."

Sam looked at Silver, then back at her. "I still don't understand what you had seen in him."

She made sure Daniel was out of earshot before answering: "You should've seen him in the 80s." after a shared chuckle she gave the girl a gentle hit on the shoulder. "It doesn't matter. Just concentrate, okay? Use what your dad and Johnny taught you, but remember how they like to play..."

His stare was burning her from the inside out after Sam left and Eli's match continued.

And as his fingers clenched into a fist, as the muscles around his mouth and eyes hardened, he looked like the old him. The Terry Silver she had met in the 80s, who had managed to make her fall for him, who had managed to make her open up and finally be honest with somebody...

He had taken her to the dojo, he had taught her a thing or two and didn't ask for a price...

And it was a fake, all of it. The gentle touches, the dates... He was a liar, a con-man, a damn psycho and a rich asshole.

She didn't want to talk to him after the truth came out and after the All Valley he disappeared for decades.

What a shame that he was still good looking...

Eli seemed to be doing just fine. Awesome, to be honest. The kid understood the assignment and soon there was no man - no matter how much Terry paid him - who wouldn't have given him the last point... That kick was beautiful, perfect and it pissed Terry off even more.

"Point! Winner: Moskowitz!"

She clapped and pride made her chest feel full.

She smiled at Terry; her grin showing him all of her teeth. That was the last nail in the coffin - grinning like he did when he sent Mike after Daniel.

Sam's match was up and she stood tall from the confidence she had gained.

Even if Daniel was eyeing her suspiciously, even if Terry seemed ready to kill her, she stood her ground.

Her kids needed the damn support after all.

●●●

"It's good to know that our lessons weren't for nothing."

She felt the chill run through her whole body as she heard his voice, this time speaking directly to her.

She hated how intense of a reaction he could still get out of her, after all those years. But then again, Terry was one in a million. No one could make her feel the way he did.

Amanda always joked about how she very cleverly chose to be single; and Daniel liked to join in to say that he had never ever seen her in love before. Well, maybe he was just too blind and too young to see it.

"Oh please, we both know you always leave a lasting impression."

She turned around to look up at him, eye to eye ever since '85. He still had the same damn look in his eyes and she had to make herself remember to not be naïve.

Terry caught her first.

After the success of both Sam and Eli - and after it was announced that both dojos would participate at the Sekai Taikai (Johnny almost blew up from frustration) - Daniel tried to talk to her in private, but Johnny was faster. He just left to try the juice bar - because "if this son of a bitch with the pony tail got what he wanted, we can at least use his juice bar" - when Terry proved that he was faster than Daniel.

"And you fucking like it." she finished as she continued to look him in the eyes.

She felt Sam's eyes on her, but the girl thankfully did nothing to intervene.

"Don't talk to Silver. Don't even look at him if you don't have to." she had told them. "That's how he functions. He consumes information and he uses it against you. He sees an opportunity, he uses it for his gain."

"If I want to be honest I always knew you'd have the guts to use what I taught you - unlike LaRusso." his lips curled upwards into a smile. "Speaking of LaRusso; what did he say when you taught my method to his students?" he stayed quiet for a second so the question could sink in. "He knew about it, didn't he?"

She just chuckled.

"Get out of my head, Terry." she just said simply, not giving in to his game. "You can't play with me anymore when I know your game too well."

"That's why I like you."

She wanted to burn the damn butterflies in her stomach.

"Although I have to say I never would've thought that you'd care this much about karate. Or the Sekai Taikai."

"Believe me, I couldn't care less about karate or the Sekai Taikai or this 'who will win in the end fight' between you and Daniel..." she explained as Sam LaRusso continued to stare a hole into the side of her head. "But those kids deserved a damn chance against you."

Terry tilted his head, his lips formed a smile so wide she could see his teeth. His shoulders fell back and he seemed even taller when his eyes were shining that way: full of excitement. Through all that interest he seemed hurt - as if she just insulted his whole being. He seemed almost offended.

"Are you lying to me or are you lying to yourself?"

"Don't give him a damn opportunity!" she had told the kids as if it would be the most important rule. "Don't feed him information! Don't pique his interest!"

"Excuse me?"

"Who are you lying to?" he asked again as he leaned closer. "Because you are lying. You're not doing this for the kids. I mean you do care about them, I can believe that, but this isn't about them, is it?"

The frustration she couldn't hide seemed to entertain him a lot.

Then she took a deep breath. Don't let him win.

"In this case, we are both liars, aren't we?" Terry stayed quiet; waiting, listening. "Are you sure this is only about you and that dream of yours? Nothing to do with Daniel or '85, right?"

He seemed to like the challenge, and God damn her, she liked it too. She liked the unsaid, hidden threat what always lingered around when Terry was close by. And he liked her fight - she knew he did. If he didn't, she'd already be on the ground with a black eye or six feet under.

"Are you sure you want to talk about grudges?"

She just shrugged. "It's always great to remember the past, isn't it? So we don't make the same mistake twice."

"Mistakes?" he asked with a chuckle. "It depends on the point of view."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Don't let him play you. If you talk to him, he'll try, for sure. He'll give you something: a story, some info. Something you'd be interested in so he could reel you in and keep you where he wants you to be. But don't let that happen!"

"Really?"

"You don't agree?"

She bit her lower lip.

The bait was out, the trap was set. She shouldn't fall for it. She can't.

She learned long ago that she'd never know why he does the things he does, but she could understand how he thinks and what he uses to get what he wants.

She was a better player now, but was she strong enough?

She swallowed her curiousity.

Grudges. She still had hers. She nursed it for years and it became unbearable when he appeared again out of thin air.

But the past stays in the past. She learned from it, didn't she? She wouldn't make the same mistake again.

Instead of asking what she wanted to - Why Terry? Why did you date me? Why did you teach me? What did it mean to you at all? What did I mean at all? - she just chuckled.

"It's good to know the old you is back, Terry." she said with a smile. "I almost started to worry when I first saw you - I thought you weren't the same man. Good to know I was wrong. 'This' you? I can handle."

The conversation was over. She wanted it to be over so it would be.

She turned to look at Sam who was still looking at her like a warning sign ("use what you just taught us"), and Johnny who seemed to be done with the juice bar.

She took a step aside, then two -- and she was almost successful. Almost.

"Are you free tonight?" the charm in his voice was still present and she hated it. "We could have dinner together. For old times' sake. And I could provide the truth about '85 from my point of view."

She stopped and looked at Sam again. She was talking to Eli and the others, swimming in pride and happiness: the things she gave them by talking about Silver.

The bait worked, the trap caged her and she could feel him reel her in.

"I'll pick you up at seven."

She failed. How could she fail?

She decided to not ask how he knows where she lives. He already knows, of course he does...

She knew everything, yet learned nothing.

She let him win - again.

[shinxeysartgallery]

J is kind of an asshole and I think we all realize that especially after what she did in Episode 8. Still think she's being hated on a bit too hard though.

She knowingly sided with Cyn, despite knowing what she was responsible for, and that's obviously not a good thing. However, do keep in mind that all of the affected Elliot Manor drones are just traumatized children at the end of the day. Cyn put all of them through immeasurable horrors. Even without Cyn's influence, the drones were treated horribly by the humans (other than Tessa). And based off the scratched-off armbands that we saw N, V, and J have that also match Cyn's armband, there's strong implications that all three of them are also "zombie drones" much like Cyn is herself. We don't know what they were subjected to before being tossed into the dump and later being found by Tessa.

As J and V are fighting, J makes an interesting comment that sheds some light on her motivations. "...It tricked me, too." Obviously, that was never elaborated on, but it strongly implies that she had made some sort of a deal with Cyn for an unknown reason. We got confirmation that V also had made a deal with Cyn, which was basically that she'd do whatever Cyn wanted as long as she wouldn't hurt N (and then would leave them both alone). Don't know if N also made a deal, but he's likely there as a part of V's deal.

So it makes me wonder, what exactly did Cyn promise J? Did she tell her that she could bring back Tessa? Promise to not let her die again? Something else entirely? Based on her comment to V, SOMETHING was definitely promised that ended up being a lie. Everyone reacts to trauma differently. Saw a post a while back (will hyperlink it later if I can find it again) by another user doing a very good breakdown of how they perceived the drones' personalities changed as a result of their trauma. N became a doormat because he kept getting hurt or hurting others every time he stood up for himself or someone else. (They also add that V's coldness towards him contributed to it and made him lose a lot of self-confidence.) V became rather cold because she was basically forced to turn off her emotions to cope with what she was doing. And she was purposefully mean to N to chase him away as an attempt to protect him from Cyn. J became a corporate bootlicker because she was terrified of being discarded again, so now she feels like she has to prove that she's useful.

And I think those theories all definitely hold some water here and help to explain why J still chose to side with Cyn, even after realizing that whatever their deal was was a lie. It's likely that she realized that if she decided to side against Cyn, Cyn would've just killed her straight-up. And that's really not out of the question, considering what she did to N and V once she realized that those two had asked too many questions and realized that she was the bad guy they wanted nothing to do with. If J had also gone against her, she'd just be replaced with either a clone that had its memories wiped (as evident by Cyn's comment to N in Episode 7: "your clones will forgive me") or a personality shift, or just flat-out a completely different drone altogether. There's also her comment towards V during their fight. "I promise it's better on the winning team.", which implies that J had full belief that Uzi wouldn't have been able to stop Cyn and Cyn was going to get her way no matter what. That paired up with the personality shift might imply that she felt trapped. Cyn preyed on her vulnerability and fears of being discarded and weaponized them against her. She believed that Cyn was going to win no matter what, and if she went against Cyn, she was going to be discarded again. Despite knowing she was tricked, she probably stays loyal to Cyn because she's terrified of that outcome. She doesn't want to die, she doesn't want to be thrown away again. But the only person she feels she can get that security from is the same one that basically caused all of her problems. That same person is practically the equivalent of a god in the universe and seemingly NOTHING can stop it. What choice does she have in that perspective?

I still feel like she's an incredibly tragic character. Horribly mistreated by humans, forced to watch (or participate in) her best friend's death at the hands of the one she despises the most, sees the same bestie be horribly mutilated and disfigured, be forced to commit horrible atrocities herself, and be manipulated and lied to. She deserves a redemption arc.

You're obviously allowed to still hate/dislike her, but that's just my thoughts on it!

[angstflayer-council]

July Drabble #4- Girl Talk

“I like Nancy.” 

Her voice cracked and she curled in on herself, afraid of the response that would eventually come. She didn’t know what she would do if Steve hated her for something she had tried to ignore for so long. Robin knew it was wrong to have a crush on her best friend’s ex and she knew there was a chance that Steve could react negatively, but she couldn’t keep it to herself any longer.  

She told Steve everything. She needed to tell him this.  

His silence scared her. They hadn’t turned the lights on when they climbed into the bed so she couldn’t see his face; couldn’t see his reaction.  

Robin reached out with a shaky hand and breathed a sigh of relief when Steve entwined their fingers together, their socked feet were already touching as they lay facing each other in Robin’s bed. “Are you mad at me?” The question broke the silence in the room and caused Steve to squeeze her hand in reassurance.  

“I’m not mad, Robs.” He sighed softly and held her hand against his heart. “I’m worried you’ll get hurt. I don’t know if Nancy is... ya’know.” He trailed off and if the light was on, Robin would be able to see the sad smile that no doubt pulled at his lips. 

“And for that exact reason I tried not to like her, Steve, I really did. She’s just so - “ Beautiful, smart, caring, brave.  

“Perfect.” Steve said with a soft laugh.  

Robin sighed and rolled onto her back; Steve kept her hand held tight in his own. “Perfect.” The word was both right and wrong. Robin felt she needed a whole new alphabet to find the right words to describe Nancy. 

“Are you going to tell her?”  

“Tell her that I like her? God, no. That’s between us and whatever god is listening.” Robin's not stupid. She knew she was never going to be anything more than Nancy’s friend, she’s cried and journaled about it already. It’s completely fine with her. Sort of. Not really.  

Steve moved closer, his big head now squished onto the same pillow as her. He waited a beat before saying softly, “No, are you going to tell her you’re a lesbian?” 

Steve’s words settled on top of Robin like a weighted blanket that’s just slightly too heavy. She knew that in order to confess to Nancy she'd have to come out to her but the thought made Robin’s stomach flip and flop like a fish out of water.  

“Do I have to?” She was scared, terrified actually. 

“No, but maybe telling her could help. Maybe Nancy broke up with me because she's secretly a lesbian.” Robin could hear the smile in his voice. He had a point but it was still so nerve wracking.  

What if it went badly? What if the one person Robin really wanted to know the truth didn’t accept her?  

Robin let out a sad noise, somewhere between a groan and a sob, and Steve, sensing her distress, pulled the covers over their heads so that they were shielded from the world. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Robs. There’s no rush. You’ll get there one day and when that day comes, I’ll be by your side.”  

“Oh my god, that was so cheesy.” 

“You love my cheese.”  

Robin snorted and shoved him lightly. “No, I don’t. I’m lactose intolerant.” 

[informaltorching]

rambling about vesper and amare (probably shouldnt read if the toxic relationship stuff makes you uncomfortable btw)

when Vesper met Amare he wasn't even interested in her like that. he was so deeply afraid of every other vampire he met and HELLBENT on revenge. he was extremely guarded and wouldn't have entertained the idea of having any romantic or sexual interactions with other vampires. he spent his time as a fledgling surrounded by someone who hated him and prolonged his suffering as much as she could. the thing about that was it was a very lonely existence. especially because Vesper doesn't like to entertain interacting with humans (which is super bad for him). it was sort of the perfect storm because Amare had every single tool she needed. even though she had initially wanted to embrace him, she now got to have him as a vampire without having to take the resentment that came with being his sire. she knew everything about him from decades of stalking him and knew what he wanted to hear when she spoke to him. she initially took on mannerisms that she learned from watching his fucking mother. she made herself so easy to trust. and that is all Vesper really wanted, someone he could trust. and he was sad and desperate and Amare was getting to him. she'd tell him she needed someone "good" like him to help keep her humanity in check. she'd point out she was also embraced against her will and pull at his heartstrings. and eventually he breaks down to her about being a blood leech and she sees an opportunity to pounce on. so she keeps pushing him gently into the idea of feeding from her. and of course he doesn't want to do that because of the blood bond as well as how dangerous it could be for her. and she keeps bringing up how strong she is and how she can handle him and that if he is feeding on other kindred he is going to screw himself over anyways. and he is constantly starving himself. so she lucks out one day because he is desperately hungry. but he is scared of hurting her and hesitating the whole time. he frenzies. he can't let go. there is a slight struggle before she finally is able to get him off because he turned out to be a lot stronger than she thought he was. he is sitting there, in a bit of shock - mouth dripping with her vitae. that is when she grabs him by the face and pulls him in and kisses him. and Vesper is letting it happen. he is confused. a part of him knows he fucked up. but another part of him doesn't want her to leave him. he doesn't have anyone else.

and this is how is all starts. at least...from his perspective.

[eleni-cherie]

a thief's origin✨ || bts • kth - epilogue

"you're afraid I won't wait."

"I'm afraid you will."

a criminal and a doctor should be as different as the sun and the moon - but unexpected things happened every day. like him finding his safe haven in her.

© 2024 | eleni_cherie

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masterlist: here

— genre: thief au, gangster comedy, adventure, romcom, humour, angst, fluff, sexual tensiON, slowburn, mutual pining, strangers to friends to lovers s2f2l

ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE. CHARACTERS NOT NECESSARILY LIKE THE REAL PERSONS. ALSO VERY UNREALISTIC PLOT LOL - JUST PRETEND READING A MANGA/COMIC OR WATCHING A FILM, REALLY.

SUGGESTIVE THEMES. MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE & BLOOD (BUT NOTHING TOO GRAPHIC, IT'S STILL A COMEDY!)

»»»

age 30 // attending physician

6th June

Havana, Cuba

The day Taehyung walked away, Cassandra didn't only lose the only man she'd ever loved but also her best friend.

A lifetime without him seemed empty and pointless and she was still mad at him for putting her through this misery.

However, she couldn't hate him, even if she wanted to. He hadn't done anything wrong after all, neither one of them had. What he'd done, he'd done out of love, to keep her far away from the danger lurking around every corner he took.

No. She'd never be able hating him because in the end, he'd never broken her heart. He had just stolen and run away with it.

And it still hurt.

The first first days, weeks, months after the break-up were characterised by denial. She was used to extended periods between seeing him again after all. Even the fact texts and calls had stopped, couldn't change that. Only when postcards had stopped coming as well, it'd finally downed to her.

Of course, in reality she'd already known it long before that, from the very first moment he'd left. She could see it in his eyes. He'd meant it back then, every single word. He wouldn't come back.

And yet, denial kept her from accepting it earlier. Kept her from even admitting or acknowledging it. Denial had her bargaining, believing that, even if he'd meant it, he'd surely change his mind eventually. That he'd certainly regret it. Denial gave her false hope.

When months passed without any new postcard, however, that was when she'd finally let herself admit defeat. When the denial couldn't hold up anymore. When the bargaining ended up in vain.

And instead, a phase of upsetness and depression, in constant pendulation, entered. A permanent restlessness accompanying her from that day on, knowing she'd never be able finding what they'd shared with someone else.

Until she'd finally accepted it and got accustomed to never seeing him again.

The tiny hope she'd once held, long stored back in a box and buried by then. Only the necklaces remained as a remnant of the past, not ready to give them away. One day maybe, but not yet.

However, just because she had managed accepting it, it didn't mean everything was back to normal for her.

Passing by their old places, she couldn't help but always see the ghost of them together there, everything turning dull. Unable to pass by Casa Batlló anymore without aching at the memory of their sunsets, the beach without remembering New Year's Eve, without seeing the 'magic fountain' and remembering his birthday present or the art museum above it where he'd clumsily confessed to her later.

Not even being able staying too long in her own apartment, constantly getting reminded of their first kiss or the countless nights they had spent there laughing, crying, fooling around and loving each other.

Her once dream city had turned blue and gray.

She simply couldn't bear staying in Barcelona anymore after completing her medical training last year, deciding to realise her once silly idea of revisiting the place of her childhood memories for her specialisation training instead.

A place with no attachment to him. Far away from everything and everyone.

She was essentially running away - or at least tried to. Although she knew she'd never be able to fully run away from it all, carrying him with her anywhere she went.

Perhaps there was also an underlying irony in the fact she'd chosen emergency medicine as her specialisation out of all medical fields. Perhaps it was evidence for the residual hold the artful marksman with the cheeky grin and the warm eyes still had on her and probably always would.

Over a year had already passed by now ever since Taehyung had left and interpol showing up hours later, questioning her about the boatyard. Over a year and she still caught herself falling into her memories every once in a while. Still couldn't stop becoming sorrowful whenever she did and plunging into work or her films for distraction.

She felt like a fool, considering a year should've been enough time to get over someone, something she'd used to do in a day or two.

At least she had stopped looking for him in other men a long time ago. Unintentionally comparing anyone she'd crossed paths with him at first, a fatuous and unhealthy habit which thankfully had subdued by now. Not that she even wanted or tried to find anyone to replace him. It'd be impossible, but also the mere thought of any men made her shudder.

No, she didn't even feel like glancing at anyone, much less date anyone. Her busy work schedules and introverted personality were a true blessing after all, making avoiding them easier.

So there she was now in Havana, the capital of Cuba and place of one of her earliest childhood memories.

It was the beginning of summer, although high temperatures had been constant for weeks. But it was nothing she couldn't handle and otherwise she enjoyed her life there so far. She wouldn't have the right to complain anyway, Havana being her chosen getaway after all.

Cassandra opened the door to her apartment in the first floor, the coolness inside a much needed contrast to the warm afternoon outside. Her aparatment was a bit bigger than her old one, but still decorated in a similar fashion. She couldn't get rid of her beloved posters, plants or plushies after all.

Her backpack sliding from her arms to the floor with a thud as soon as she pressed the door shut behind her.

A five-hour-long seminar sounded more painful than it really was, but perhaps she'd simply got used to this, who knew. Numbness to certain things was one of the requirements for this kind of profession, which she had almost mastered by now - finally.

With a dragged sigh, she slipped out of her disgustingly warm sneakers, although she was accustomed to such temperatures, they still took a tall on her. First she poured herself a much needed glass of water. Gulping it down in one go before changing into more comfortable clothes and preparing something to eat.

When the food was ready, she settled in front of her tv to continue watching a crime comedy she'd started awhile ago.

Old habits died hard after all.

The second half of the episode was reached when Cassandra noticed her eyes growing heavy, the tiredness of the day and the food making her drowsy. Eventually fluttering shut, causing her to almost miss the anxious knocking on her front door.

First she dismissed it as a neighbour's hammering, but when she paused the episode to figure out which one it was, she realised the noise was coming from her door. And she tensed up, staring at it with wide eyes.

Wonder mixed with an odd feeling of déjà-vu crept up on her as she slowly went to answer it. Assuming it was just irritation causing her trembling hands as she grabbed the door handle, her knuckles turning white when pressing it down and opening the door.

It felt like a sick joke of the universe first. Then she feared her mind was only playing tricks on her, projecting a memory of him. But it couldn't be a memory. He looked different.

Not because of the beaten up posture and the torn clothes - she had seen him way worse. It wasn't even the shorter mop of waves, tousled and sticking out at some ends, or his broader frame.

No. It was the distress written all over his gentle features, a mild sunburn tainting them in a pinkish shade, that told her something had to be severely wrong for him to stand again in front of her door, more than one year later.

And her initial excitement sunk.

"Cas -" Taehyung tried catching his breath and propped a toned arm against the doorframe. It was evident that he had been running. "I know I have no right, but Jimin - he - he needs you."

At the mention of his friend's name and the way he choked it out, she sensed her initial fear being correct. Something was terribly wrong.

Any lingering feelings and unsolved regrets got swept aside in that moment. Her ego and tiredness long forgotten, instead instincts from years of medical training kicked in. And she immediatelly rushed to the bathroom.

Perplexed at her sudden move, he wanted to call after her when she returned seconds later with a familiar object in her hands. The blue medical kit. She held it firmly in one hand while slipping back into her sneakers with the help of the other.

"Take me to him."

Taehyung smiled softly, not even surprised by the determination in her voice. She hadn't changed at all, she was still the same.

He nodded then, wordlessly grasping her free hand in his and Cassandra let him pull her downstairs to his waiting car.

THE END

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hope you enjoyed this prequel! it got longer than expected haha

if you wanna know how Tae x Cas's story continues, make sure to read the main story "among thieves" and the sequel "a thief's end" ;)

💜check out the whole "thieves collection" series or my main bts masterlist for other members' stories in this universe or in general💜

Don't forget to like, comment & leave feedback!♡ It motivates me to keep writing :)

taglist: @lilanyxta @naoolammao345 @memna234 @tetehion @myblacklilame

[talkfantasytome]

Glasses

A teeny, tiny drabble so that I could participate and do something for @nestaarcheronweek despite my crazy, hectic life. I've always imagined that Nesta wears glasses for work or reading or something, and that it drives Cassian absolutely nuts. I wish I had more time to make this more, maybe some day, but for now, I give you Cassian appreciating Nesta in glasses. 💕

Am I still good to swing by to bring your key back?

Yep! Working from home and have no more meetings today. Come by whenever you want, no need to knock.

Cassian smiled at the words flashing across his screen as he reached the windowed door that revealed the doors to the two apartments in Nesta's converted townhouse. Nesta had already told him twice that he could come by any time after noon today, but he let his nerves get the better of him and he had to check just one last time. Even if he was already on her street.

"How are you already here?" the silky sharp voice of his girlfriend asked, carrying easily down the stairs as he opened the door to her apartment.

Cassian chuckled, closing the door and locking it behind him. "Couldn't get to you fast enough, sweetheart," he called up as he began to climb. It was a steep staircase. And dark. He hated it. Nesta could really hurt herself on it, and that was something he wouldn't be able to handle. Cassian dreaded the day he got a call telling him she'd fallen down these damn stairs.

Reaching the main floor, he set the keys down on the tall table in front of him just as a large, cream furball let out a loud hiss.

"Even after feeding you for a week, you still hate me?" he muttered, bending down to see if Ataraxia would sniff at his fingers. The furry little beast lifted his nose up and sauntered away from Cassian like a little prince. "Your cat is a spoiled brat," he said, walking down the small hall toward where he knew Nesta would be working in her large living room.

"As he should be," she replied.

Cassian walked into the room and suddenly the world felt lighter as he laid his eyes on his girlfriend for the first time in a week. Staring intently at the computer screens in front of her, all he could really see was her delicate frame and the golden brown hair tied back in her typical coronet style.

He took a step toward her, going to give her a quick kiss on the cheek, and then paused in his tracks as Nesta turned in her chair to look at him.

There, resting on top of her perfect nose, was a pair of rounded-square glasses in a dark frame. They weren't exactly hipster glasses - too small for that - but they were a similar shape that sat perfectly in Nesta's face.

Nesta was always the most beautiful woman in the room, always sharp and stunning and obviously intelligent. So Casssian wasn't sure exactly what it was about these glasses, but they took his breath away. Perhaps he was more attracted to librarians than he realized. Or maybe it was just Nesta, looking absolutely stunning in everything, and adding new fantasies about glasses Cassian never thought he'd desire.

"Wh…what are those?" he asked like an idiot, pointing to her face.

Nesta let out a small laugh. "My glasses? I wear them for work. They're just blue-light lenses, they keep me from getting a headache when staring at a screen for a long time."

"They're-"

"A necessary nuisance."

"-phenomenal." Nesta blushed at Cassian's last word, turning back to the computer screen.

Cassian wanted to riot, just as he always did when Nesta looked away from him. It should be illegal, for him not to be able to look upon her face. But especially now. Who knew wen he'd get to see her in glasses again? He needed to find a way to save himself from this withdrawal, and he knew just the thing. "Don't you get a lunch hour?" he asked softly, stepping closer to Nesta and leaning his chin on her shoulder.

"Yes…" she answered slowly, turning her face to look at him.

He grinned. "Great. So why don't you log off but keep those glasses on and join me in the bedroom?"

Before Nesta could answer, Cassian left a kiss on her neck and sauntered to the back of the apartment, smirking as her heard soft footsteps following him.

If you'd like to be added to my taglist, let me know!

@live-the-fangirl-life @generalnesta @secretlovelybeauty @julemmaes @boredserpent @autumnbabylon @moodymelanist @sv0430 @nesquik-arccheron @gwynrielsupremacy @katekatpattywack @moonstoneriver77 @swankii-art-teacher @lemonade-coolattas @emily-gsh @my-fan-side @champanheandluxxury @imsointobooks @sayosdreams @simpingfornestaarcheron @perseusannabeth @shinya-hiiragi @a-court-of-milkandhoney @pintas3107 @embersofwildfire @superspiritfestival @thewayshedreamed @lunabean @xstarlightsupremex @mis-lil-red @wannawriteyouabook @dealfea @bridgertononmymind @daydreamer-anst @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @hiimheresworld @c-e-d-dreamer @kale-theteaqueen @charming-butt-insane @charliespringsleftconverse

[bingeeaterblog]

// small warning big re touken hate it's a post on why I hate it and how I think it could've been done better BUT I encourage you to keep reading if you do like them and to give me your thoughts whether to tell me why you like them or why you think im wrong in some regards i love a good debate its why i joined Tumblr

I'm gonna start this off by talking about why I loved the original mangas touken.

They start off as strangers, them only having a REAL meeting when she saves his ass from nishio. Initially she was cold and rude, for every reason he was very disrespectful(also for good reason he was scared and all he knew about ghouls is that they are monsters who hurt people, one literally just had him in a choke hold) but I digress. Kaneki starts working at anteiku and he's shadowing touka much to her dismay she feels he can't do anything right and is just a know it all human.

Right off the bat they have a very interesting dynamic, touka learning to care for kaneki him starting to see her(and ghouls as a whole) as a person and not something he should be afraid of.

As time goes on, touka falls for him, it's what makes everything so hard when he abandons her. She feels betrayed he left just like ayato and her dad did no one ever stays for her? How could they? She makes herself so hard to love shutting everyone out. She blames herself partly, not being able to protect him from whatever happened at the aoigiri base.

When she does see him again she's angry! How dare he come back after all this! Why can't he just make up his mind! So she lashes out, she misses him so dearly but she can't tell him that? Let him know she cares? She hits him and tells him to never come back to anteiku (to her).

You can see why it's so appealing!! The angst!! The drama!!! They have it all! Toukas longing and kanekis isolation are what makes them so GOOD.

To explain why I don't like re touken we have to talk about why I don't like re touka.

Touka before was a very well rounded character, she was brash and a little impulsive, she loves the people around her even if its hard for her to show it in a healthy way. She'll do whatever it takes even if it means risking her own life.

Re touka, doesn't really have that. She's very... Water downed. I like to call it house house wife-ification. She's lost any semblance of her old personality. While I do like the idea of touka calming down and becoming more docile it's not done right, we meet her again and she's just... Like that? There's no character development of her changing it just happens! She's shaved down so she can be the perfect love interest for kaneki, it's even shown in her design! Her eyes are softer and she doesn't hold any of the same energy as old touka(this happens with a lot of female characters ishida just ended up giving them all the same face besides eto).

Kaneki is? Fine? I loved haise as a character and him and touka were sorta cute if u kinda ignore that fact touka isn't touka. Kaneki was fine and re and that's it, he's just okay. His Savior complex is removed and it's just "I wanna save people!!" The whole reason his savior complex is important is BECAUSE it ends up hurting more people he should've been developed to learn how to manage that and be the hero he could be.

Now for their actual relationship.

It's very.... Rushed? There's no tension no build up just "are you a virgin?" Which in my opinion is something touka would never say she'd stumble around it. they made her bold at the wrong times she's an awkward lil freak. And then boom! Sex yeah! And it's? Okay? It's not my favorite I felt like a sex scene between them should've been more desperate!! That's when the marriage bite should've happened! It should've bites and messy kisses and promises to never leave again! There was no passion! There was the "why are you crying" but that didn't really do anything for me!!

I do like the end scene where she was petting his hair that was very soft which is what he needs.

Then toukas pregnant!(Which is something I'll get into good another time) And it kinda feels like they only rush into the marriage because she is... Like I feel like they should've atleast had a dating stage y'know!! Everything just felt so fast with them and nothing like the original:(

The end credits scene feels nothing like touka, she looks dead that's not the character I used to know :( kaneki too only the scene with hide felt real

And yeah! I like ichika! But how cool would it have been if touka got pregnant AFTER re and in the end credit thing she was revealed! Another natural born one eyed ghoul!! Idk...

This is very messy sorry I had to get this out. if you like them? That's fine!! That's super duper cool its just not my favorite. Tell me why you think I'm wrong! Id love to hear your opinions

[balanceoflightanddark]

The fire nation's defeat was technically Azula's fault.

Zuko and Iroh were branded traitors and failures. Azula was given specific instructions to capture them, dead or alive. Azula had them both red-handed in Ba Sing Se. Instead of doing what she was told, she asks for Zuko's help and she clears his name in return.

Now, it could be argued that without Zuko's help, she would've been pummeled into submission by Aang and Azula. Well, then after his usefulness was used up, she had a chance to pull yet another fast one and apprehend him without having to lie to Ozai.

Zuko acted suspiciously. He made Azula doubt that Aang really died and she began to think that Zuko may have had something to do with his survival. Instead of searching for proof of Aang's survival and informing her suspicions to Ozai, she puts unnecessary risk on herself and sets up a gambit that was ultimately pointless in more ways than one.

If Azula did what she was supposed to do, Zuko and Iroh would be dead or put in prison which leads to Zuko never finding out about the plans with the comet, Aang never finds a firebending sifu, the FN gains victory unopposed, and Azula can reign as Fire Lord.

In short, by choosing to lend Zuko a hand more than once, she indirectly did Team Avatar a huge favor.

Boom: Butterfly Effect.

The FN's MVP was also Team Avatar's MVP. I do enjoy the irony.

I wonder though, what would the Gaang's, Azula's Zuko's, Iroh's, Ozai's, and all of FN's reactions when realizing this epiphany?

It would break Azula.

...no seriously. It would break her.

While I think it would be a bit of a stretch to say that the defeat of the Fire Nation was her fault (cause there's no way in hell she could've seen bringing Zuko home would end up with his betrayal of Ozai), I do think she was hurting already with Zuko betraying her. If she was torn up about Mai and Ty Lee turning on her, I have no doubt she'd feel the same about Zuko regardless of what her relationship with him is right now. Add on to the fact that this is a girl that is hoisted with way too much responsibility than she is able to handle (being driven to become perfect at any cost), a revelation like this would destroy her.

And the fallout wouldn't be pretty. At all. It would probably rival her breakdown at Sozin's Comet, if not be worse. Hell, I think Zuko and Iroh would be a bit concerned for her. Zuko did seem somewhat regretful at her state after the Last Agni Kai and Iroh (while not Azula's biggest fan) probably wouldn't be that callous to brush her off.

Ozai would hate her though. Hate hate HATE her though. He puts on so much pressure for her to be perfect. What do you think the abusive piece of shit is going to do when he puts two and two together. Might even disown her on the spot, which will cause her to spiral even more. And she'd probably lose a lot of support in the Fire Nation for indirectly letting an unpopular successor on the throne, which would cause her to spiral even further.

...kind of why I don't really want to put the blame on the Fire Nation's defeat on her since the poor kid doesn't need that on top of her failures already. Besides, I think the defeat of the Fire Nation can better be laid on Ozai's feet. I mean, he was the one who banished Zuko and mistreated both him and Azula. If we want to go indirect, he set up a domino effect. And directly, he wasn't able to consolidate the Fire Nation's gains at the end of the war which led to a huge rebellion movement. And he certainly didn't seem to want to get involved with fighting Aang during the Day of the Black Sun which could've stacked the odds further against him when the firebending was turned back on. Mind you, this was before Zuko showed up. Like he was sipping tea while Azula was holding the Gaang off.

That being said, I could see him pass the buck off on Azula for the Fire Nation's defeat. Which would lead into the scenario I just outlined above.

[emuthefandomcollector]

So there are usually 2 different "hiding da body" culprits in Omari AUs, Aubrey & Hero.

I understand why people would use Hero (I've noticed that it isn't as common anymore), but it usually has to be written well for me to really.. get it? If you understand.

Like, I KNOW it's because he cares a lot about Mari (it's the whole reason he stayed inside for a whole year when she died), but.. it feels like.. super ooc for Hero.

I understand that it's a stressful situation and that he could be not thinking straight, but Hero seems like the kind of guy, no matter the situation, if he sees somebody hurt, to try to help them.. like calling an ambulance in extreme cases like this. He doesn't seem like he would go, "lol let's cover up his death"

Plus, Hero is like.. older than the younger kids, he's said to be 15 in a dialog line in Last Resort, iirc, so he would be more mature, as the younger kids would be 12-13, and there is a BIG mental difference between that.

Plus, Hero would have more common sense? I mean, he just doesn't seem like he would do it.

HOWEVER, I think Aubrey could be more plausible.

Even though Aubrey cares about Sunny, she also cares a lot about Mari. She literally transformed herself completely BECAUSE of Mari's death, and she was willing to basically say, "We aren't friends anymore, Sunny."

People tend to overlook Aubrey when it comes to AUs (especially Omari AUs)/in general. She went through so much, and they only really tend to look at Aubrey to ship her, but Aubrey has problems. She was literally growing up in an abusive household for gods sake, so I doubt she really has a completely sound mind, and due to growing up in a household, she hates. she views Sunny and Maris household as her second home and views Mari basically like a sister. -so yeah. She cares, a lot.

People forget sometimes that Basil did it because he cared for Sunny so much that he got tunnel vision and was only worried for him. He didn't want him to get in trouble (simplified), BUT he still cared for Mari, so it's not a problem of "but she cares for Sunny!!" It's a thing of Aubrey caring so much about Mari, basically her non-biological sister, that when she sees her in distress, ESPECIALLY while she herself is stressed, she wouldn't be thinking correctly. She would act irrationally just like Basil because she wouldn't know, she is too young and she hasn't grown up and might be too scared to pick up a phone and ask for help.

It's scary and traumatic for Basil in the OG game because he cared for Mari and that Sunny basically abandoned him for YEARS, and it could EASILY happen to Aubrey under the worst kinds of points, she COULD act irrationally when she is stressed and sees Mari basically having a mental breakdown. She COULD see SUNNY in pain, but in her brain, she thinks he's long gone. She COULD be too scared to pick up a phone, maybe due to stress or maybe because she doesn't want Mari to get in trouble (i.e., like Basil did).

For Aubrey, she was basically the closeest to Mari (and maybe also Sunny as well, but we only really see the past mostly through Sunnys eyes, so its unsure, and Sunny is very unreliable at times in Headspace), people sometimes forget this fact that Aubrey is close to Mari, so she could make more sense as a "hide a body simulator" culprit. Also, it's really fun exploring Aubrey in this way, lol :]

Basically:

Hero is unlikely because;

He is more mature (still young, yes, but 15 is way different than 12-13).

He would probably call for help and then help Mari calm down.

He seems like the kind of guy to have hope that he's alive instead of instantly thinking to hide a body

Why I think Aubrey would maybe make more sense;

Once again, very young and likely wouldn't know what to do as she isn't very developed mentally, and she wouldn't be used to able to handle this kind of stress.

Likely would jump to the conclusion that Sunny is dead and that she needs to help Mari be fine (she'd likely get a sort of tunnel vision like Basil)

She would act VERY irrationally. We have seen her do that even when she is about 16 or so years old.

She would try in any way she could to help Mari and could possibly think, "If she gets in trouble, she'll get more sad/it would be extremely bad."

She just wouldn't want anything worse to happen to the group, thus why she would hide the body so Mari wouldn't get in trouble and make things worse aswell

She could have a very hard time thinking about picking up a phone in these kinds of situations, note: because of age and/or mentality.

Overall, Hero can work if written well, and the characters can still bounce off each other properly, but usually Aubrey makes more sense.

(if this makes no sense I made this without taking my meds right after school and waiting 1 hour for a bus.)

[viharistenno]

So. Thoughts.

Nicky created the ballad of the Road, Billy created the Road itself. For Agatha, the Road is inherently connected to her son and walking it…

At the beginning of the 8th episode, Agatha already knows Lilia is dead and she is in a really difficult state of mind. She did not want her dead and after realising what Lilia was able to do for Billy, it must be hard to face Rio.

While mourning her friend (or kindred spirit), her mind is in overdrive on how to save THIS kid who is NOT HERS but still reminds her so much of him. And they even have a past, they have affection for each other and Agatha can't help but merge the two boys in her heart.

And Rio does not like what Billy is, that she can't take him but she - unlike Agatha - can't lie (what is it with me and autism coded characters) so she taunts her with truths.

"This WALK with Another Woman's son?"

Coming from Rio it reeeaaally feels like jealousy. There is the implication that Billy is Wanda's, yes, but Agatha is still a mother figure for Billy whatever else happens. And Rio is not part of that, this is not 'their' son, so she feels cheated in more ways then one.

I'm not sure what happened between Salem and the birth of Nicky, but at first, I really don't think Agatha wanted to kill that much. She was surprised she took the powers of the Salem Seven and went on her merry way alone, with Rio. And then she gave birth to a son who got Time from Death but not a Life. Agatha needed to kill for him to live so she slowly gave up parts of her soul, and her only dedication was for Nicky and when the Time came, Rio took the last piece of her soul and Agatha was left with nothing. Special treatment, huh? So she went on a killing spree, took a lot of power, aquired the Darkhold, hid form Rio and learnt everything there is about chaos and creation. If there is no soul left to corrupt, it doesn't matter anymore, does it? Maybe this is why she wasn't truly corrupted because Agatha was a feeling human person still.

And then she met Wanda and in some ways they were more alike than she'd want to admit. She felt for Wanda, her grief touched her and she hated her for that. She wanted the power - maybe to bring back Nicky, maybe something else - but NOT the feelings. And after Wanda's death, only the feelings remain, without the power.

Now, back to the 8th episode, after all this, Rio WANTS to take The Kid, and Agatha sighs, yeah, that's what you do, you take, go, do that. But then she realises, that Rio CAN'T and that's when the con starts. And the inner battle. Agatha is SO PISSED at the audacity that Rio wants her help to take the kid she has (conflicted) feelings for, so she lashes out, she hurts Rio. She wants her soul back! The kid can belong to her without belonging to Rio! And she does not want to be reminded of what and why she has done, and Rio as herself is the embodiment for that.

In the end she realises she also needs to let go. And so she listens to her coven and she listens to the one person who sees the good in her, and surrenders. And so she gets a bit of her soul back, even if she ends up not exactly corporeal for the time being. (Oh she's gonna come back I'm sure of that and Rio will let her this time.)

[moonyasnow]

Veronica hates Leona.

Like really, really hates him. She just feels and endless amount of frustration anytime she so much as sees him.

And it's because they're the same.

They've both always been underestimated by those around them, growing up in environments where they were scorned and told they would never be 'the best' all because of something they had no control of, that they were BORN into. (Being second Prince with a UM that turns things to sand in a Savannah country, and being magicless half-fae in Briar Valley)

But the crucial difference is their attitudes.

Veronica never gave up; she REFUSED to give up out of sheer spite, still training every single day because she refused to let everyone who put her down win.

So seeing Leona having given up, feeling that nothing he does will ever be good enough, she just wants to grab him by the collar and scream at him to not let them win! Because that's what she's been fighting against her whole life— that's what has DEFINED her life. Because she didn't think there WAS any other option. Because to her, giving up ISN'T an option.

So seeing so much of herself in him, and seeing him having just given up, deciding it's not worth it…it makes her wanna kick him in the back and force him to start doing something about it! Because seeing him like that— seeing someone who reminds her so much of HERSELF— scares her. And again, seeing so much of herself in him, she just resorts to treating him just how she'd treat herself if it ever got to that point:

Telling him to get off his ass and stop whining and feeling sorry for himself. Nothing is ever going to change if he doesn't get up and try to do something about it, to prove everyone who ever put him down wrong or die trying.

But of course, to Leona, all he sees is another person demeaning him, calling him lazy, and only seeing what he lacks.

She IS trying to help. Though for purely selfish reasons.

But in a way that doesn't get across to him. In a way she can't understand only hurts him more.

But she just can't stand to be silent because she's afraid of what his existence could end up saying about her. That there might have been a universe where she was just like him.

And she just can't accept that. Because if she does, it would basically feel like accepting that she also won't ever be able to prove anyone wrong. And having built up her entire life, everything she is, around that pursuit…

To fail is inconceivable.

@babyghoul138 VERONICAAA

[purrassicjet]

2. “You’re too young to hate the world.”

Fig and sandra lynn

This one's good.

---

Sandra Lynn leaned back on the couch, trying to collect her thoughts on the events of the last few weeks. The explosion that had been the last few weeks. It had begun with migranes, and then everything had... emerged. Literally. Fig's horns had begun growing in, and everything in her world had exploded.

It was all her fault, really. It was her doing. It was all her fault. She was the reason her marrige was impoding and her daughter's identity was in jepardy.

She glanced at the clock, 12am. Gilear had long since gone to bed. She felt sick with guilt. Her life would be fine after this. Sure, she would be divorced and her reputation would probably be ruined again but she had a job, and she was keeping the house. Gilear had uprooted his life to be with her, quit his job, moved in with her. He had to start back up from nothing. Letting him sleep in an actual bed was the least she could do.

So she was on the couch with the few blankets she had managed to find. She didn't deserve any blankets, to tell the truth, but Fig had found her sleeping on the couch without blankets and started to freak out. So she made the couch up to sleep every night, the urge to punish herself overpowered by her unwillingness to hurt her daughter any further. She smoothed out the itchy blanket, feeling devoid of anything. Tiredness, emotion, nothing. There was only a faint throbbing of guilt at the back of her mind.

Her legs carried her up the stairs, all the way up to the attic. She pressed her ear to the door, making sure Fig was asleep before cracking the door open and slipping in as quietly as possible. She was grateful Fig had been able to fall asleep this time. Sometimes her arguments with Gilear got loud, sometimes the pain in Fig's head was too much to handle. Her sleep had been interupted recently, and she had been suffering for it.

She sat down on the floor next to her daughter's bed, listening to the gentle sounds of her breathing.

"You're too young to hate the world." She whispered. Things were falling apart, and she had mangaed to shield Fig from most of it, but every argument, every step they took closer to divorce, she knew Fig's life would get harder. And it was all her fault. She was making her daughter's life difficult, she had already started to take days off school because the pain was too much. She was going to return to school different, she was going to be socially isolated. Sandra Lynn wanted to scream, but she didn't let herself make a sound. She couldn't risk waking her daughter from the best sleep she'd had in weeks.

"Figueroth." She exhaled softly, "I love you so much. I'm so sorry for what's going to happen over the next few months. I'm sorry that you're going to be hurt the most by this split. I just..." Her breath caught in her throat and she cupped her hand over her mouth to stop any further noise from escaping. "I thought your father didn't love me. But he did, and he doesn't anymore. I'm sorry you're going to get caught in the crossfire."

She leaned back. "I don't know how I'm going to take care of you. I work so much and I can't cook to save my life, to save yours. Having Gilear around has made things so easy, and now they're going to get so much harder." She ran her hands through her hair and gripped it at the roots, trying not to scream. "I've ruined your life. You're not even an adult and I've already ruined everything for you. I'm so sorry."

Fig stirred and Sandra Lynn froze. She wiped her streaming eyes (when had she started crying?) and stood up, slipping out of the bedroom before she did anything else to ruin her daughter's quality of life.

[charleecat-bat]

BOG Rebooted: Janelle, the First Female Guardian

Janelle- -Was the first proper female guardian. This news was met with...mixed opinions as you could imagine. -The government did attempt to propose a sex reassignment surgery on her when she was just born but Thunderhawk DID NOT approve of this and shooed them away. Hawking would approach them and rip them to pieces verbally about trying to do this and made sure to never try it again. -While she was very girly when she was younger, due to society putting pressure on her as the 'supposed next guardian’ and as well as her family accidentally making it harder for her by putting certain expectations on her. She made herself less feminine as she grew up. -She does like to have more feminine moments privately, such as wearing more traditional ‘girly’ clothes according to society, self-care routines (although she hated how making attempts to feel good was considered girlie) sadly it’s not often. -She wishes she didn’t have to force herself to be less feminine, she still hates having to force herself to be ‘more of a man’ for the sake of being taken seriously. She definitely fights for the sake of other women being independent and strong without having to change themselves, this does make her appeal as a hypocrite… but her situation is sadly too complicated. -An adrenaline junkie, loved action and getting into fights. Especially if they doubted her being able to win, that extra loss was tasty to her. -Could be very violent if driven to it, tries not to be but it can show itself occasionally… -Loved driving vehicles and definitely stole and hijacked her family's vehicles… more than once. She took, flew and crashed an aircraft of theirs once. They were not happy. -Not sure what her strengths were as a guardian but she was GOOD, she worked hard to prove herself. Stubbornly, even to the point of exhaustion and hurting herself. But she did prove her worth. -Ran off of SPITE and determination. You tried to tell her she couldn’t do something. She'd try to find a way to do it. -Highly competitive as a result of her upbringing, almost TOO competitive. Feeling like she had to fight for everything, even though in some cases she really didn’t… at least that’s what she was told. -Would go to bold or almost extreme measures for situations, whether it be to prove a point, win a battle, or such sometimes it could be a good thing…other times not so much. -Her pregnancy was difficult and she wouldn’t let herself rest until she could barely work anymore… -Adored her son and gave him an undying amount of support in anything he did, even if her family did not approve of it. (especially that) -She did not expect her son to be as powerful as he was with chaos energy but supported him in his attempt to control him. -When he did approach her about leaving the island and the guardian title behind for his higher fate, she wasn’t sue what to make of it but believed if Athair was chosen, it was for a reason. So she supported him and let him go -She did continue to be Guardian after him, even if she was getting older but she was a determined gal. -She was assassinated, unsure how exactly yet. It was either by the government itself, fearing she was growing too powerful as a icon, or by the dark legion. -It was not an immediate death, it unfortunately might’ve been caught on but she attempted to fight through it to not be seen as weak… so alas, it caught up to her -While she was saddened to not see her son before she died, she wasn't even mad or upset, she had faith in him even in her very last moments... -Thanks to her fathers efforts, her image is valued highly in today’s society. 

[derekgoffard]

Colin's older sister is a very small part of his background, however Ive had some characterization down for a while now so I thought I'd make a little post about her 🤲.

Her name is Claire Midland! She has virtually no relationship with Colin and probably does not ever wish to see him again yayyay 👐. She also has those mother issues that make you a bit mean and desperate for comfort all the time but that's okay 👍.

Some extra trivia under the cut 🕊️

( THESE ARE ALL WRITTEN VERY MESSY + INCOHERENT. IM SORRY IF U ATCUALLY TRY READING THIS 😭😭😭😭😭 )

- she went into nursing because she wanted to give others the kind of care and attention she herself craved - however she eventually realized that was not at all the reality of nursing. She kind of hates her job 👹.

- her life revolves around this funny little cycle of her feeling this constant sense that she is unloved, which leads her to constantly be seeking comfort ( physical and emotional ). However she never feels comforted for long, hence the cycle continuessss la la la🤸.

- her favorite thing ever is being coddled, she's a hard worker but she wishes she wasn't.

- She loves flowersss, but she can never keep them alive. Despite this she continues to buy them, only to have them die in days. Her favorite flowers are sun flowers 😊.

- her necklace has her and her mother's birthstones ( emerald and topaz ).

- she's never held a steady relationship for over a year but she has alot of positive one night stands. Not necessarily sex either - usually she just wants to be cuddled and coddled over for a night, y'know how it is ☹️..... Let me tell you what tho her aftercare game is unbeatable LOLLLLLLLL.

- she was a very clingy and emotionally demanding child. ( example; Claire would absolutely NOT enter school without her mother, and so her mom had to sit next to her desk in school for most of her early education ). This was okay for a little while, but when Colin was born, their parents got a divorce, and their already mentally ill mother could not really cope with two children.

- Since Claire was the oldest ( still very very little, like 7 years old )- it fell on her to help her mother, while Colin would bounce between their father and mother. Claire has never had a relationship with Colin, but she secretly blames and resents him for their parents divorce, and their mothers declining mental health. While ofc Colin resents her for basically gatekeeping his own mom LOL.

- Her relationship with her mother is surface level and distant. No matter how hard she may want to- she just can't connect to her mother. Claire is too emotionally taxing and her mother is pretty much unwilling to deal with it at this point. Claire reminds her of the lowest times in her life, and she sees Claire's attachment to her as a failure in how she raised her. She thinks Claire needs to grow out of it by herself. I think her mother does feel guilty about how Claire's childhood turned out- and so she really does think trying to let Claire find her own way is what's best for her.

- oh and also Claire is pretty much the reason Colin received so little attention from her as a child LOL- she would get HIDEOUSLY jealous of baby Colin taking attention from her mother and throw really intense fits about it 👤 I'm thinking she even went as far as trying to hurt Colin in some way. Sorry Colin, no healthy relationship with mom for you. your sister is too emotionally demanding.

- I think she's doing okay now. She's a little unhinged but I'm thinking she has a steady job and nice girlfriend now. I kinda want her to be happy y'know. 🕊️

- unrelated but Claire has not seen Colin since they were young teenagers so she has no idea about his dyed hair or fashion sense. I don't think she'd be able to recognize him to be honest LOL.