#the seventh mansion

[cissa-calls]

When I started cosplaying Wednesday and researched her shoes???? SHE WEARS PRADA OXFORDS. TO. CLASS.

[inkskinned]

nobody ever gets the mugshot of gluttony right. these days you think it has nothing to do with bodyweight. what a good trick: that gluttony could take a shape. no, there was never any fault in finishing a meal or in taking second helpings. it was always in taking from others that there was an issue - the oil baron's fingers steepled over dead bodies and stolen lands. gluttony - twin of greed, although most think greed and envy are the siblings - gluttony is pleased with the experience of gaining, is thrilled just-by-having. greed is the one that stays hungry, that has to move forever like a shark. gluttony likes it - "a glutton for punishment" is one who is seeking the harm, who loves the rush.

gluttony is a mother using her daughter's body for a diet testing ground, sharpening the bone angles. gluttony is saying why, well not! to the seventh and eighth mansion or yacht. it is not just wanting the six white horses, it is making sure that the horses came from your stables. it is not just bathing in milk - it is bathing in milk while others are starving.

oh, it's true that some sins still blaze in their bright floral prints. wrath in a white woman yelling at a person of color for even daring to be in her neighborhood. the red, incipient rage of a neck tightened at even the thought we would take the guns away. wrath has laurels, and she is good at her job, and works hard.

but sloth wasn't ever the sleepy morning of depression, the hours spent begging a clouded body to please move goddamn it; the protestant work ethic claiming even rest is somehow demonic. it was never chronic fatigue. sloth was subtle, a grey mist. she is watching you get bullied and she is deciding it is none of her business. she crosses the picket line because - what! it's just chicken, isn't it? she is closing her eyes and turning her head when the next anti-gay legislation passes. someone else will handle it. not the tense freeze of anxiety or a lack of preparation - she knows you're hurting and would rather you stay quiet about it. she tells other people i just don't see what the big deal is.

sloth is a father that doesn't do the dishes. sloth is your boyfriend's innocent shrug you're just better at household shit. sloth isn't the missed opportunity - it is the purposeful desire to just get-someone-else-to-do-it.

greed and envy are doing body shots in the back of a private jet. they are the way they always have been, but are lovers in the age of the internet. greed just finished union busting, is rolling a bitcoin over his knuckles, is about to start another MLM. envy is in a broadbrimmed hat, showing off her instagram life, grinning about how if you want it, work for it.

okay, it's true. you have a soft spot for lust, gathering dust in a corner. so tame in comparison to the others. but how funny lust is always painted as being a woman in tight clothes. you've met actually lustful women - the ones that purposefully climb into your partner's lap, the ones that say lesbians are gross but ask bisexual women into bed with their husbands. a lustful woman is not donned in lace and garters and red: that's how men think lust looks, painting their own sins into frame. this way, the sin displaces as fog and hovers above her: a woman in a dress is lust; what the man experiences is just the natural consequence.

here is the thing: lust is doing just fine, save your pity. lust is running more circles than any of them. lust is shutting down safe sexwork sites while also making teenagers in knee-high socks sex sensations. lust is CEO of an advertising network where women never pass 25 years old. all the bras lust makes are pretty to look at but, when worn, legitimately hurt. lust has a podcast, his fur coat looped around his shoulders, sells the idea that only certain people have value, that sex raises some and destroys others. lust is tilting his head and asking what did you expect when you dress like that? lust shuns you, sneers that everything you want is disgusting and taboo - right until he can figure out how to capitalize off of it. lust has the midas ability: everything he touches becomes an object.

people usually say wrath is the scary one. you agree with FMA here, though: the real dangerous one is pride, and the shit-eating grin. the white cloaks and the nationalism and the inability to apologize. it is every partner who threw a book at your head because you don't respect him. it is every mother who said my son doesn't deserve to have his life ruined over allegations. it is the teacher that fails you because you talked back.

you worry you have this one. you feel guilty when you need help but don't ask for it. prideful. ashamed when you complete something and feel good about it. too proud for your own good. but pride is not the reward of hard work or accomplishment: pride is a twitter feed. it is the thing that has to mask i didn't do anything with look at me.

pride is your father's raised hand, his raised voice. how he was never there when you needed him, but he is still "head of house." he ruins dinner and blames it on you: you're an embarrassment to this family. this is the glass you walk around, the cuts in your feet. how he says this isn't how i raised you and you have to bite back the retort: that's because you didn't actually fucking raise me.

[forsoobado137]

🍨dolly_as_prez Follow

🍨dolly_as_prez Follow

It's been five years since I made this meme and nothing has changed lol

156,932 notes

🧻Dorpblorpw93 Follow

Watching Alfred's short films on youtube are always fucking hilarious because I never know if he's being ironic or not. They all look like they were written produced by an over-caffeinated film student but if they had an actual budget. Like they are legit the funniest pieces of media out there and I have no idea if the comedy is intentional or not.

🏞fromthevalley89 Follow

Where do I begin here? The fact that he basically plays everyone? The fact that he included Arthur but didn't let him play as himself and cast him as bad guys? The fact that he was able to get Roderich and Francois on board with this? The fact that he doesn't even name himself and just puts ME? The fact that the end credits are three times longer than the movie? AND HE LITERALLY CAST HIMSELF AS GOD?! This is peak cinema.

🧭justintime12oclock Follow

Also what is up with Tony? Did Alfred just rotoscope his roommate and make him an alien? is it CGI (Really badly done)?

47,459 notes

🌌galaxylesbian Follow

AGAIN?!

🐝beemybestie Follow

Translation: wahhh wahhh my president won't give me money for Louis Vuitton and my seventh mansion so I'm gonna sit on my ass while the stocks plummet and the trains malfunction 🥺

🌟bugdrinkbugrink Follow

Actual translation: I've literally fought in dozens of wars and bent over backwards for this government and all I get in return is a minimum wage paycheck, demeaning insults from my own politicians, and disrespect from tourists that I'm forced to put up with. I deserve better, and by not working, I'm going to demonstrate how fucked you all would be without me. I hope this opens people's eyes to the lack of rights me and my fellow nations have, and that it will force governments everywhere to actually give a shit.

🌷Azaleyaaaaah02 Follow

Also that mansion thing is such bullshit. The reason nations have so many houses is because they have been ALIVE FOR CENTURIES and they can't just stay in one place forever. Also they have had more than enough time to buy houses when they were cheap and pay off multiple properties. Nations aren't just secretly a bunch of out of touch millionaires. They have been homeless, in debt, and have lived in far worse conditions than you could ever imagine.

🌟bugdrinkbugrink Follow

For everyone trying to call nations "selfish" for going on strike because it has negative effects on their countries, that is literally THE ENTIRE POINT OF STRIKES. World leaders think that all nations do is look pretty and die over and over in petty wars. In the THREE DAYS that France (and other European countries) went on strike back in 1976, the stock market plummeted, trade slowed, transportation stopped working, and other citizens stopped going to work. The leaders realized pretty quickly that they fucked up. After they got better wages, the nations returned, and everything was up and running again.

Moral of the story: PAY YOUR NPS A LIVING WAGE! These people have literally sacrificed everything for their nations. So what if France wants to be able to afford iconic French fashion brands? If I was an immortal being who died thousands of times in mankind's worst wars, you better BELIEVE I would demand that I can afford to treat myself.

41,246 notes

[lua-magic]

North Node in Various houses and your Soul Desires.

North Node in First House:

There is something unique about your personality and your body. You always love to dress differently like colour your hairs really bright or wear bright coloured clothes. You don’t fit in the crowd. It could also give some rare kind of disese, weight gain or you could suffer from frequent body disease.

North Node in Second House:

 North is exalted here. You are lucky in terms of finances and family wealth. You love spicy foods. There is something unique about the way you speak, whatever, you speak becomes true but you also share love and hate relationship with your family. Your family has frequent fights and you often find yourself cursing and abusing them.

North Node in Third House:

North Node is exalted here. You are free spirited and extremely courageous and risk taker. You might be having frequent fights with your siblings or neighbour. You might develop anger issues, you playful and prankster as well.

North Node in Fourth House:

You have karmic relationship with your family and mother. There is something unique about the place you live. It could creepy, haunted or even unevenly big. You could develop mental issues like anxiety, depression and OCD.

Your mother could also suffer some kind of mental health issues. This combination could sometimes gets you huge mansion or create desire to live in big house.

North Node in Fifth house:

This combination could inflate your ego, sometimes makes you lustful angry and corrupt. Not good combination for your children as you could have lot of expectations from them. It could make you fame, name and position hungry.

North Node in sixth House:

North Node is exalted here. It gives you fighting spirit; you don’t leave your enemy and fight with them till you destroy them. This combination could give you lots of enemy and court cases as well as debt, but you don’t give up easily and love challenges.

North Node in seventh House:

Your relationships and partnerships are mostly karmic, you experience lot of heart breaks. You are extremely frank and upfront about your relationship and with your partner. This combination also gives you multiple partner and affairs.

You easily attract opposite sex and get attracted to them as well easily. You are romantic and have high sexual energy.

North Node in eight House:                    

You have good intuition and deep interest in occult and witchcrafts. There are chances either you put some kind or hex or spell on someone or suffer from evil eye.

You have high sex drive or desire, and good premonition ability.

There are chances you could easily attract spirits towards you and store lot of emotions inside which could sometimes block your mind and visions.

North Node in Ninth house:

You go on short travel lot, not a good combination for your father as his health or work could suffer.

You may be attracted towards two to three religions at the same time; you usually don’t get right or correct advice and has bitter relationship with your teachers.

You might leave your religion and embrace some other religion or become atheist. There are chances you marry outside your religion or country.

You’re spiritual but not religious.

North Node in Tenth House:

North Node is exalted here.

It makes your multitalented and multi tasker, but you have problem with finishing your tasks. You sometimes take more on your plate then you can handle.

You will have problem with your bosses and jobs. You love to try different projects and try different things.

North Node in Eleventh House:

North Node is exalted here:

It gives a lot of desires and gains as well. You should be careful with your friends and family as they might try to spoil your name and reputation and could be jealous of your success as well.

North Node in twelfth house:

It will give foreign travel, foreign land settlement, and gives you ability to astral travel. You have good intuition and sometimes, could sense or see the negative events in your life before it occurs. This combination either will make you lazy or give you disturbed sleep.

You have wild sexual fantasies and high desires to reach on top or for expansion.

You like to store things and don’t give them easily to others. You have problem with letting go your emotions easily.

You hold on things and people and has karmic relationships with your spouse and family.

You get Déjà and lucid dreams.

You are more spiritual then religious. You attract spirit and other worldly beings easily towards you. You have interest in conspiracy theories and occult.

Please support me on.

[mcrdvcks]

what are hands for?

chapter summary: After an offhand comment from your father shakes your confidence, you find yourself spiraling into self-doubt.

word count: 2.4k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: i'm not even gonna lie, this is extremely self-indulgent. i've barely been home for a week and my dad's already called me fat once and it definitely won't be the last time

anyways, i basically wrote this for myself but i thought i'd share it because i know for some people, being home for the holidays is rough! and the only thing i need is for logan to tell me he loves me and everything would be perfect

warnings/tags: insecure!reader, reader has a brother, skipping meals, implied that reader has received rude comments from family before, reader describes herself as 5'7" and over 200 lbs one time (like i said, self-indulgent), curvy!reader, angst, fluff

You have always had mixed feelings about going to your parents’ house for the holidays, or even during your breaks during college. You loved home, it was where you grew up so naturally you were supposed to love it.

But you also hated it. Hated the comments, the looks, the yelling—all of it.

And somehow here you were, standing in your parent’s quaint house, your younger brother and his girlfriend already in the dining room helping your mom with dinner while your dad greeted you and Logan.

"Hey, kiddo," your dad said, pulling you into a quick, half-hearted hug before turning to Logan with a small smile. "Logan. Good to see you again."

Logan gave a polite nod. "Good to see you too, sir."

Your dad’s gaze flicked between the two of you for a moment before gesturing toward the dining room. "Everyone’s in there. Why don’t you join them? Dinner’s almost ready."

Logan looked at you briefly, a silent check-in, before heading off. "I’ll go see if they need help," he murmured, squeezing your hand lightly as he passed.

The air shifted the second Logan stepped out of earshot. Your dad turned back to you, giving you a once-over that was a little too long for comfort.

"You’ve put on a little weight, haven’t you?" he asked, his tone casual, as if he hadn’t just landed a verbal punch to your gut. "Must be all that mansion food."

Your chest tightened, heat creeping up your neck. You opened your mouth to respond—what, you weren’t sure—but he didn’t wait for an answer. He just patted your shoulder like it was nothing, muttered something about checking on the turkey, and walked off, leaving you standing there alone.

In the back of your mind, you knew you should’ve put on a different shirt, this one was just a tad bit too tight. But it was one of Logan’s favorite’s, so you didn’t pay too much attention to it.

You pulled on your blouse a few times, trying to get it to not stick to your stomach before walking into the dining room like you always did when you were younger, with a fake smile.

---

You huffed, yanking the seventh shirt over your head and tossing it onto the growing pile on the bed. Nothing looked right—nothing felt right. Every shirt clung too much, hung awkwardly, or just didn’t sit right. And with each outfit failure, the voice in your head grew louder, echoing your dad’s casual remark.

You tugged at the hem of your tank top, staring at your reflection in the mirror with narrowed eyes. ��Stupid,” you muttered, turning to the side to inspect your profile. “It’s just a shirt. It’s fine.” But it didn’t feel fine.

After another long minute, you grabbed a loose hoodie from the closet and pulled it on, letting it drown you. It wasn’t what you’d planned to wear, but at least it hid everything you didn’t want to see.

You made your way downstairs to the kitchen to grab a quick breakfast before your class. On the counter were a box of donuts, and without thinking you grabbed the two you normally did in a napkin and made your way out.

But not before pausing at the doorway, a bite already taken out of one donut as you looked down at the food in your hand. You took another bite and threw both away, making your way to your classroom before the kids got there.

You got to the classroom a good twenty minutes early, dropping your bag onto the desk with a sigh. The hoodie you’d thrown on still felt too heavy, too obvious, but you didn’t have the energy to deal with it right now. The two bites of the donut you’d managed to eat sat like a stone in your stomach.

You busied yourself setting up for the day, pulling worksheets out of your bag and lining them up on the desk. It wasn’t much, but focusing on something, anything, kept your mind from wandering too far down the spiral. The kids would be filing in soon, their chatter filling the space, and that would make it easier. It always did.

But for now, the silence was suffocating.

There was a soft knock on the doorframe, and you looked up, expecting one of the students. Instead, it was Ororo. She leaned casually against the frame, a warm, curious smile on her face.

“Morning, Y/N,” she greeted, stepping into the room. “You’re here early. Everything okay?”

You forced a smile, nodding as you shuffled a few papers around unnecessarily. “Yeah, just… wanted to get a head start. You know how Mondays are.”

Ororo tilted her head, clearly unconvinced but kind enough not to push. “If you say so,” she said, her tone light but probing. Her gaze swept over you, lingering for just a second on the oversized hoodie before she caught herself. “Well, let me know if you need anything.”

“Will do. Thanks, ‘Ro.” You gave her another tight-lipped smile, hoping it looked more convincing than it felt.

She hesitated for a beat before nodding and stepping back into the hallway. As soon as she was gone, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

The classroom slowly came to life as the students trickled in, their energy filling the room and pushing your thoughts to the background. By the time the lesson was underway, you were almost able to pretend nothing was wrong. Almost.

It wasn’t until later that day, during lunch, that it all came rushing back. The teachers’ lounge was unusually crowded, laughter and conversations bouncing off the walls. You slipped in quietly, grabbing a bottle of water and a granola bar from the counter before finding a corner to sit in.

From across the room, Logan caught your eye. He was leaning back in one of the chairs, arms crossed, but the second he saw you, his expression softened. He gave you a small nod—his way of checking in. You nodded back, offering a faint smile.

You didn’t miss the way his brow furrowed slightly, though, or the way his gaze lingered for just a moment too long before he turned back to his conversation with Scott. It wasn’t like Logan to hover or push, but you knew he noticed things. And he never let them go.

---

After classes you went into the kitchen to put your mug in the sink from hours ago. Out of habit, you grabbed a few cookies Ororo had made yesterday before stopping yourself.

You stared at the cookies in your hand, your frown deepening as your dad’s words replayed in your mind like a broken record. Your stomach churned, and for a moment, you felt like throwing the cookies straight into the trash.

“What’d those cookies ever do to you, darlin’?” Logan’s voice startled you from your thoughts. You turned to see him leaning casually against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest. His gaze wasn’t accusing, just… observant.

You hesitated, gripping the cookies tighter. “Nothing,” you muttered, trying to sound nonchalant. “Just… wasn’t really hungry.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, pushing off the doorframe to step into the kitchen. “Didn’t seem like you were thinkin’ about that a second ago,” he said, his tone teasing but gentle. “Something on your mind?”

You shook your head quickly, putting the cookies back on the plate. “Nope. Just tired. Long day.”

He didn’t look convinced. Logan had a way of reading you like an open book, and you hated it sometimes. Hated how hard it was to hide from him, even when you wanted to.

“Darlin’…” His voice was softer now, his hand reaching out to brush yours. “What’s goin’ on?”

You sighed, leaning against the counter and crossing your arms. “It’s nothing, Logan. Seriously.”

He stepped closer, tilting his head to meet your eyes. “Y/N, you know I don’t buy that. You’ve been off since we got back from your folks’ place.” His voice was low, steady. “Talk to me.”

You hesitated, chewing the inside of your cheek. The last thing you wanted was to unload all this on him. But the look in his eyes—genuine, steady, patient—made it impossible to deflect.

“It’s just… something my dad said,” you admitted finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan’s jaw tightened, his expression hardening. “What’d he say?”

“It’s not a big deal—”

“Y/N.” His tone was firm, but not unkind. “What’d he say?”

You exhaled sharply, avoiding his gaze. “He… made a comment about my weight,” you mumbled, feeling your face heat up. “Said I’ve been eating too much mansion food.”

Logan’s expression darkened, his brows knitting together. “He said that?” His voice was low, dangerous. You nodded, still not looking at him. “That’s bullshit,” he muttered, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.

“It’s not—he didn’t mean it like that,” you tried to defend weakly, though you weren’t sure why. “It’s just how he is. And, it’s not like he’s wrong either, I could lose some weight. I’m 5’7” and over 200 pounds, and sometimes my old pants don’t even go over my thighs or hips. And—”

Logan held up a hand, cutting you off gently but firmly. “Alright, stop. Just stop.” His voice was low, steady, but there was a protective edge to it. “First off, I don’t give a damn what your old pants fit like. And second, your dad? He’s got no right to talk to you like that. None.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but Logan stepped closer, tilting his head to meet your gaze. “Nope. Not hearin’ it, Y/N. You’re sittin’ here pickin’ yourself apart ‘cause of some stupid thing he said, and that’s not fair. Not to you.”

“But he’s not wrong,” you muttered, looking away. “I mean, look at me. I’m—”

“Perfect,” Logan interrupted, his voice firm. “You’re perfect. And I don’t wanna hear you say otherwise.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “You’re just saying that.”

“Do I look like the kind of guy who just says things?” Logan shot back, raising an eyebrow. “Princess, I’m the last person to sugarcoat anything.”

You hesitated, your arms crossed tightly over your chest. Logan sighed, stepping closer and resting his hands lightly on your hips. “Y/N, you’re strong. You’re smart. And yeah, you’ve got curves—and I happen to like ‘em. A lot.”

Your face heated at his words, but Logan wasn’t done. He gave your hips a gentle squeeze, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You think I’d be standin’ here, chasin’ after you, if I didn’t think you were incredible? Come on now.”

“I’m not fishing for compliments, Logan,” you said quietly, still not quite meeting his eyes.

“I know you’re not,” he replied. “But I’m givin’ ‘em anyway, ‘cause you need to hear it. And because it’s the damn truth.”

You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, despite yourself. Logan grinned, clearly pleased to have gotten a reaction out of you. “There’s that smile,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “Missed that.”

The knot in your chest loosened just a bit, and you let out a shaky sigh. “Thanks, Logan,” you murmured. “I just… I don’t feel like myself sometimes, you know?”

“I get it,” Logan said, his voice softer now. “We all got our crap to deal with. But you don’t gotta deal with it alone. Not when I’m here.”

You gave him a small nod, the corners of your mouth twitching upward. Logan’s smirk returned, and his hands slid from your hips to the curve of your thighs, his fingers grazing lightly. “Besides,” he said, his tone turning teasing, “you know what these thighs are for, right?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

He grinned, his hands squeezing gently before lifting you up. “For my hands. Nothin’ else they need to do, far as I’m concerned.”

You yelped in surprise, grabbing onto his shoulders. “Logan! Put me down!”

“Nope,” he said, a smug grin plastered on his face. “Not until you stop talkin’ nonsense about yourself.”

You glared at him, though the heat rushing to your cheeks betrayed your indignation. “I’m serious, Logan. I’m not exactly lightweight—”

“Good thing I’m not exactly weak,” he interrupted smoothly, his grin widening. “You think a couple extra pounds are gonna make me break a sweat? Sweetheart, I’ve fought Sentinels and lived to tell the tale. Trust me, I got this.”

You groaned, your hands tightening on his shoulders as he adjusted his grip, holding you securely. “This is ridiculous.”

“What’s ridiculous is you thinkin’ you’re anything less than perfect,” Logan countered, his tone softening just a bit. “Now, you gonna stop beatin’ yourself up, or am I gonna have to carry you around all day until you do?”

“Logan, we’re in the kitchen,” you hissed, glancing toward the doorway. “What if someone walks in?”

“Let ‘em,” he said with a shrug. “Not like they don’t already know you’re my girl.” He leaned in closer, his nose brushing against yours. “Besides, anyone’s got a problem with me lovin’ on you? They can take it up with me.”

You huffed, but your lips twitched into a reluctant smile. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, but you like me anyway,” he teased, setting you down gently but keeping his hands on your hips. “Now, what do you say we grab those cookies and actually enjoy ‘em? ‘Ro made ‘em for us, after all.”

Your gaze flicked to the plate of cookies, and for a moment, doubt crept back in. But Logan’s steady hands on your hips and the unwavering warmth in his eyes grounded you. “Okay,” you said softly. “Let’s eat the cookies.”

“That’s my girl,” Logan said, pressing a kiss to your forehead before reaching for the plate. He handed you one, grabbing one for himself, and took a big bite, chewing with exaggerated enthusiasm. “Damn, these are good. Think she’d notice if we finished the whole plate?”

You laughed, the sound lighter than it had felt all day. “Pretty sure she’d kill us.”

“Worth it,” he said with a smirk, taking another bite.

You rolled your eyes but bit into your cookie, letting the sweetness melt on your tongue. For the first time in what felt like days, the weight on your chest eased just a little.

And when Logan leaned in to steal a crumb from the corner of your mouth, you couldn’t even find it in yourself to protest.

[palskippah]

Hi! There are role swap AUs of them already and I love them so much, so I tried making my own too! You should know that this is entirely self-indulgent like anything else I draw askdaslds

There is Mareach and Bowuigi bc yes alskdklasd and a tiny bit of one-sided Luaisy that leads to nothing because Luigi's a married man 😔

I had other drawings of them, but they're not colored yet and I wanted to share the idea already sjsjs

Here's some ideas for this AU!

-Mario's the Mushroom Kingdom Princess and his parents are the King and Queen. Luigi used to be the other princess, green princess or green princess Mario (as in, his bro Mario, not his last name Mario 😔), but he married Bowser and became the Queen of the Darklands :y Everyone in there respects and remembers his name, he's built a really good reputation for himself by simply being himself, in this house we believe in the 'Luigi is the Darklands' hero' hc too. Their aunt and uncles (and cousin) rule Sarasaland.

-(King boo's a Darklands ally but still hates Queen Luigi from that one time he wiped clean his mansion when the king kidnapped Mario. Luigi's scared of ghosts still too, but Junior always reassures him he's gonna beat them up if they try scaring his mama (I drew it actually, I'm gonna color it too!))

-When the bros were 20 Bowser at first tried kidnapping Princess Mario, and Mario was ready to beat his ass but they ended up talking about ally-making and ruling a kingdom as Bowser just got crowned king. Mario advised him to listen to his advisor and other stuff and by the time Luigi caught the koopa ship, ready to bonk Bowser in the head with his comically large hammer, the princess and king made plans of starting a treaty.

>Anyways, they met often after that when Bowser went to plan the treat with the Mario King and Queen. Luigi fell for Bowser and Bowser fell harder and Mario regretted talking to Bowser and should have instead just beat him up. He's happy for his bro though. When they married and had Junior and adopted the koopalings he decided that he was very happy that he talked to Bowser. He loves how happy Luigi is.

-Princess Mario accomplishes many things and excels at almost anything he tries, and all the toads treat him as a hero as well as a princess and all, so his dad doesn't think he's a failure, but still bothers him by urging him to get married ever since he turned thirty. He often compares him to Luigi, who got married at 23 and in the present had eight kids with his husband. Mario doesn't give a shit about marrying soon, but wished his dad would stop being annoying. His mamma is a sweetheart as always and often tells her husband to leave him alone. King Mario is stubborn as hell though (his two boys got that from him), so he doesn't.

-Peach and Daisy are cousins and they were trying to start a business together, though they weren't still sure about what (you know as Princess Peach and Daisy have many businesses together in canon aksdla), but before they could settle anything they somehow fell in the pipe and Peach landed in the Mushroom Kingdom and Daisy in the Darklands.

-Bowser still steals the Super Star, but in hopes of giving Luigi the coolest anniversary gift ever, as it's their seventh and all that. He very often gives him all sort of things, like great statues, many many dresses and all the stuff that he knows Luigi loves. Being the himbo he is, he's genuinely concerned that Luigi wouldn't like something unless it is completely new and has never been gifted to him at all. Of course, Luigi would love anything he'd give him, because Bowser's gifts are always made with love. By the end of the things, Luigi tells Bowser so and calls him an idiot affectionally, and also makes him return the Super Star. (movie-like, you know, since this is somehow a retelling alksdlasd)

-Based on what I read at discord, if you're who wrote it, pls know that i love your ideas jsjs- Bowser has set up many statues of Luigi that are of a nice stone color and has gems in its eyes to glow under the lava and the sun when it's out. Imagine that one Luigi render where he's got an arm raised and the other nicely by his side and he's smiling, that's the main statue of Queen Luigi sjjds. They contrast greatly against Bowser's, that were made to make his fierceness stand out, unlike Luigi's that highlight his kindness.

-In the piano scene, Bowser is playing and singing and Luigi's laying on his stomach over the piano's surface (no idea if that's possible but humor me alkdalsd) and listens with the most besotted expression ever, resting his face on his palms. When Kamek interrupts them Luigi's not mad or anything, but Bowser really glares at the magikoopa.

-Junior finds Daisy and brings her to the castle, in hopes that his mama and papa will help her, because they're the greatest people in the whole world and they can do anything.

-Daisy and Luigi quickly become friends, making Bowser jealous of the other human, especially because Daisy from time to time looks at Luigi as if she like-liked him. Not that he thought Luigi had eyes for anyone else beside him, but it was still annoying. And Diasy, for all she annoyed him, seemed to fully respect that Luigi was happily married.

-Daisy teases Bowser mercilessly too, at first clueless that she's supposed to be terrified and respect this guy like everyone else does (maybe Junior takes her to him first, and completely forgetting Junior's initial rambling about his family, she doesn't realize Bowser's the king, but when she meets Luigi, she sees his crown and fancy clothes and immediately knows she gotta be respectful to this guy. She doesn't know how royals are in this lava world, after all), but she keeps doing it, knowing the koopa king may look terrifying but he's mostly bark and no bite.

-DK and Mario are friends and they often meet up to beat the shit out of the other, or sparring as it's called, I think. The first time they did it, Mario got the cat power up and destroyed DK in front of the kong king and other kongs, and since then Cranky doesn't dislike Mario so much, and the others respect him greatly too.

-Mareach,,, they look at eachother and sparkles are in there too. Peach doesn't brutally throw Mario to the ground or anything, but he loses his breath anyways because of her beauty. Also, Mario's type is beautiful tall women (and tall idiot men, maybe his dad suggests DK as a husband and Mario's like ew dad, we're just friends. Or maybe... Donkareach... I like the fics that has them, but idk for this).

-Toad as a wingman, he doesn't care how obvious he is, he's gonna make Princess Mario and his new friend Peach be together, because they clearly like-like the other.

That's all I got for now askdalsd thanks if you read my ramblings, sorry if there's mistakes in writing.

I'm gonna color the stuff I got left and maybe draw more, but knowing myself I dunno if I will anytime soon 😔 Also I go back to college the next week sadly sjsjd

Got any thoughts on the AU? Tell cuz I'd love to know c:< but only if it's nice thoughts, I'm sensitive akdalsd

[goryhorroor]

What are some underrated horror films? I have watched all the popular ones and need more! Thanks!

mentally prepare yourself because im ready to give a gumbo list (this has been sitting in my inbox because i had to ask all my friends and this is the list we came up with):

curse of the demon (1957) the serpent and the rainbow (1988) paranoiac (1963) the old dark house (1932) countess dracula (1971) golem (1920) haxan (1968) island of lost souls (1932) mad love (1935) mill of the stone women (1960) the walking dead (1936) the ghoul (1933) tourist trap (1979) the seventh victim (1943) ganja & hess (1973) dead of night (1945) a bay of blood (1971) let's scare jessica to death (1971) alice sweet alice (1976) the deadly spawn (1983) the brain that wouldn't die (1962) all about evil (2010) black roses (1988) the baby (1973) parents (1989) a blade in the dark (1983) blood lake (1987) solo survivor (1984) lemora: a child's tale of supernatural (1973) eyes of fire (1983) epitaph (2007) nightmare city (1980) slugs (1988) death smiles on a murderer (1973) intruder (1989) short night of glass dolls (1971) the children (2008) alone in the dark (1982) end of the line (2007) the queen of spades (1949) the housemaid (1960) tormented (1960) captain clegg (1962) the long hair of death (1964) dark age (1987) the crawling eye (1958) the kindred (1987) the gorgon (1964) wicked city (1987) baba yaga (1973) 976-evil (1988) bliss (2019) decoder (1984) amer (2009) the visitor (1979) day of the animals (1977) leptirica (1973) planet of the vampires (1965) lips of blood (1975) berberian sound studio (2012) a wounded fawn (2022) matango (1963) the mansion of madness (1973) the killing kind (1973) symptoms (1974) morgiana (1972) whispering corridors (1998) dead end (2003) infested (2023) (this just came out but im adding it) triangle (2009) the premonition (1976) you'll like my mother (1972) the mafu cage (1978) white of the eye (1987) mister designer (1987) alison's birthday (1981) the suckling (1990) graveyard shift (1987) messiah of evil (1987) out of the dark (1988) seven footprints to satan (1929) burn witch burn (1962) the damned (1962) pin (1988) horrors of malformed men (1969) mr vampire (1985) the vampire doll (1970) contracted (2013) impetigore (2019) eyeball (1975) malatestas carnival of blood (1973) the witch who came from the sea (1976) i drink your blood (1970) nothing underneath (1985) sauna (2008) seance (2000) come true (2020) the last winter (2006) night tide (1961) the brain (1988) dementia (1955) don't go to sleep (1982) otogirisou (2001) reincarnation (2005) mutant (1984) spookies (1986) shock waves (1977) bloody hell (2020) the den (2013) wer (2013) olivia (1983) enigma (1987) graverobbers (1988) manhattan baby (1982) evil in the woods (1986) death bed: the bed that eats (1977) cathy's curse (1977) creatures from the abyss (1994) the dorm that dripped blood (1982) the witching (1993) madman (1981) vampire's embrace (1991) blood beat (1983) the alien factor (1978) savage weekend (1979) blood sisters (1987) deadly love (1987) playroom (1990) die screaming marianne (1971) pledge night (1990) night train to terror (1985) the devonsville terror (1983) ghostkeeper (1981) special effects (1984) blood feast (163) the child (1977) godmonster of indian flats (1973) blood rage (1980) the unborn (1991) screamtime (1983) the outing (1987) the being (1983) silent madness (1984) lurkers (1988) forver evil (1987) squirm (1976) death screams (1982) jack-o (1995) haunts (1976) a night to dismember (1983) creaturealm: demons wake (1998) the curse (1987) daddy's deadly darling (1973) nightwing (1979) the laughing dead (1989) the severed arm (1973) the orphan (1979) not like us (1995) prime evil (1988) the monstrosity (1987) dark ride (2006) antibirth (2016) iced (1988) the soultangler (1987) twisted nightmare (1987) puffball (2007) biohazard (1985) cameron's closet (1988) beast from haunted cave (1959) the she-creature (1956)

[d-targaryenshoe]

Timeless Affection - Benedict Bridgerton

Word Count: 946

Summary: One's love for another does not fade after time, it only gets stronger and speaks for itself, does it not?

The dawn broke softly over the Bridgerton estate, casting a golden hue across the sprawling gardens.

Inside, the house was already abuzz with a secret flurry of activity.

Your children had been planning for weeks.

Today was your seventh wedding anniversary, and they wanted to make it a day to remember.

Eldest among them was 8-year-old James, whose responsible nature and knack for organization made him the natural leader of their clandestine operation.

Then there was 6-year-old Ella, creative and quick-witted, always ready with an idea to add a personal touch.

Finally, there was little Henry, 4 years old, who, despite his age, was determined to contribute meaningfully to the celebration.

James had woken up at the crack of dawn, slipping out of his room to finalize the arrangements in the garden.

They had planned a surprise picnic lunch, complete with a string quartet and a replica of your favorite flower garden.

Ella had insisted on recreating the garden, knowing how much you cherished it.

As James instructed the staff and made sure everything was in place, Ella was inside the house, ensuring you both remained unaware.

Henry was tasked with creating distraction after distraction.

His mischievous grin betrayed his excitement as he plotted the morning’s diversions.

Their first challenge was getting you out of the house without arousing suspicion.

Ella and Henry had enlisted the help of their Bridgerton aunts and uncles, knowing that if anyone could provide a seamless distraction, it was them.

The Bridgerton siblings were experts at orchestrating family chaos when needed.

In the grand living room, you sat with a cup of tea, savoring the quiet moment before the day began in earnest.

Benedict was reading a newspaper beside you, a contented smile playing on his lips.

Your anniversary had always been a private affair, celebrated with close family and simple joys.

“Good morning, Mother! Good morning, Father!” Ella burst into the room, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Good morning, darling,” you replied, setting your cup down. “You seem very energetic today.”

“Well, it is a special day, after all,” Ella said, her smile widening. “Uncle Colin and Aunt Eloise are here, and they have something they want to show you in town.”

Benedict raised an eyebrow, looking at you. “Colin and Eloise? Up to something? This should be interesting.”

You laughed. “They’re always up to something. It’s part of their charm.”

Within minutes, Colin and Eloise appeared, their enthusiasm barely contained.

“Happy anniversary!” Colin declared, enveloping you in a hug. “We have a little adventure planned for you both. No questions, just trust us.”

Eloise nodded in agreement. “Yes, it’s a beautiful day, and we thought you might enjoy a little outing.”

Benedict looked at you, curiosity piqued. “Shall we?”

“Let’s,” you agreed, your eyes twinkling with anticipation.

As you both left the house with Colin and Eloise, James breathed a sigh of relief. “Step one complete,” he muttered to himself, before heading back to the garden to oversee the final preparations.

Colin and Eloise led Benedict and you through the bustling streets of London, engaging you in lively conversation to keep your curiosity at bay.

You visited a quaint bookshop you loved, followed by a stroll through Hyde Park, and finally, a charming little café where you enjoyed a light brunch.

Meanwhile, back at the mansion, the Bridgerton children, along with their aunts and uncles, worked tirelessly.

Anthony, the eldest Bridgerton sibling, had taken charge of organizing the string quartet, ensuring they played the your favorite melodies.

Daphne and Francesca arranged the flowers, transforming the garden into a breathtaking oasis.

By midday, the preparations were complete.

The garden was a vision of elegance and beauty, with delicate floral arrangements, a picturesque picnic setup, and the string quartet ready to serenade you.

James, Ella, and Henry gathered in the foyer, waiting for the signal from their uncles.

The plan was to bring you both back home just in time for the surprise lunch.

James felt a mixture of excitement and nervousness.

He wanted everything to be perfect.

Finally, the sound of carriage wheels on gravel announced the return of Colin and Eloise, with Benedict and you in tow.

The children exchanged excited glances.

“Ready?” James asked his siblings.

“Ready!” Ella and Henry chorused.

As you entered the house, you were met with a curious silence.

The children led you through the hallways, which had been decorated with garlands of flowers, each step building anticipation.

When you stepped into the garden, you gasped. “Oh, my goodness…”

The sight before you was nothing short of magical.

The garden was transformed into a paradise of blooms, your favorite songs floating through the air.

A beautifully arranged picnic awaited for you, complete with all your favorite foods.

“Surprise!” the children shouted in unison, their faces beaming with pride.

Benedict looked around, taking in the sight of his siblings and children working together.

“This is incredible,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “You’ve outdone yourselves.”

Your eyes glistened with tears of joy. “It’s perfect. Thank you so much.”

As the family settled down to enjoy the picnic, Benedict and you marveled at the efforts your children and family had gone to.

The day was filled with laughter, stories, and the kind of warmth that only family could bring.

As the afternoon sun dipped low, casting a golden glow over the garden, you leaned into Benedict.

“Seven years,” you said softly. “And it feels like just yesterday.”

He kissed your forehead. “Here’s to many more, my love.”

The string quartet played on, the flowers swayed gently in the breeze, and you celebrated not just an anniversary, but the enduring love and togetherness that defined you.

[zoebensonsgf]

violet harmon hcs

a/n - i think it's tragic how hardly anyone writes for violet any more ☹️

definitely considered a weird girl

a lot of people in her middle school absolutely despised her

mainly because of how blunt she is

trinket giver

can't go anywhere without headphones

before she died, she liked taking a lot of walks

would absolutely despise tiktok

would also claim she's "too cool" for social media

Tate proceeded to catch her ass girlblogging on tumblr

most likely started smoking in eighth grade

has probably tried weed before

she didn't like it

her favorite holiday is halloween

obsessed with horror movies

speaking of horror, she also had an obsession with creepypastas and vampires

at some point in seventh grade she was wishing that ticci toby would take her ass to the slender mansion (me too girl, me too)

loves spotify

also has extremely long playlists for the most random things

I have a feeling she'd be really into riot grrrl and goth music

her favorite artists are probably the cure and jack off jill

also im pretty sure it's canon that she likes the kinks but idk what subgenre that is bcs I don't listen to them

has probably dressed up as lydia deetz or a witch at some point in her life for halloween

[muiitoloko]

New beginning

Summary: It's a new beginning.

Pairing: Judge Turpin × Fem! Reader

Warning: Illness.

Author's Notes: Is it wrong that I'm sad this story is ending? I think I got more attached to this story than I should have. 😅

First, Second, Third, Fourth, Fifth, Sixth Seventh, Eighth and Ninth part here.

As the days turned into months and then years, William grew up quickly, his laughter filling the halls of your grand mansion. You marveled at how time seemed to fly by, cherishing every moment spent watching your son grow and thrive.

But as William grew, so did your family. Soon, you found yourself pregnant again, the news of twins filling you with both excitement and trepidation. Turpin, though initially taken aback by the prospect of expanding your family, soon embraced the idea with his usual stoic resolve.

Months passed, and eventually, the day arrived when you welcomed your twin babies into the world. Turpin stood by your side, his expression a mixture of awe and apprehension as he witnessed the miracle of birth once again. Despite his typically stern demeanor, his heart melted at the sight of his newborn children, and he vowed to protect and cherish them with all his being.

As the years went by, Turpin's health began to decline, his once formidable strength weakened by illness. Forced to retire from his prestigious position as a judge, Turpin struggled to come to terms with his newfound vulnerability. You, ever the devoted wife, remained by his side, offering comfort and support as he navigated this challenging chapter of his life.

With Turpin's health deteriorating, you made the difficult decision to leave London behind and move to the farm you had always dreamed of. Turpin, though initially resistant to the idea, eventually acquiesced, recognizing the benefits of the fresh air and tranquility for his recovery.

The transition to farm life was not without its challenges, but together, you and Turpin faced them head-on, drawing strength from each other and the love that bound your family together. Turpin, though laid up since his illness, found solace in the simple pleasures of country living, while you reveled in the opportunity to nurture your growing family in the serene countryside.

As the years passed, the farm became a sanctuary for your family, a place where Turpin could find peace amidst the turmoil of his declining health. Surrounded by the beauty of nature and the love of his family, Turpin rediscovered a sense of purpose and contentment that he had long thought lost.

Though Turpin's illness presented its share of challenges, it also brought you closer together as a family, strengthening the bonds that held you all together. As you watched your children grow and thrive in the idyllic countryside, you couldn't help but feel a profound sense of gratitude for the life you had built together, far away from the hustle and bustle of city life.

As the afternoon sun cast its golden rays over the sprawling fields surrounding your farm, you and Turpin sat together on a sturdy wooden chair placed in the entrance of your cozy farmhouse. The gentle breeze carried the sound of laughter and playful shouts from your children, William, Sophia, and Belladonna, who were engrossed in a game of tag in the yard.

Turpin, his once formidable frame now softened by age and illness, leaned back in his chair, a faint smile gracing his lips as he watched his children at play. His hooked nose and baritone voice still commanded authority, but there was a warmth in his gaze as he observed their antics.

His recently acquired cane rested on the arm of his chair, a symbol of his newfound reliance on assistance. Yet, despite his physical limitations, Turpin radiated a sense of contentment and pride as he basked in the joy of fatherhood.

You, seated beside him, couldn't help but smile as you watched the scene unfold before you. William, now a strapping young lad of ten, took on the role of protector, keeping a watchful eye on his younger sisters as they darted around the yard with reckless abandon.

But it was Sophia and Belladonna, aged seven, who truly stole the show. With their wild curls bouncing in the breeze and laughter bubbling from their lips, they embodied the innocence and exuberance of youth.

Suddenly, Sophia and Belladonna broke away from their game, sprinting towards you and Turpin with reckless abandon. "Father! Father!" they exclaimed in unison, their voices echoing with excitement.

You couldn't help but scold the girls gently for their lack of decorum, reminding them to behave like proper young ladies. Turpin, however, merely chuckled indulgently, his stern gaze softening as he watched his daughters clamor for his attention.

"Sophia, Belladonna, mind your manners," you chided gently, though there was a fondness in your tone. "You mustn't pester your father so."

Turpin's smile widened as he reached out to ruffle Sophia's hair affectionately, his touch gentle despite the playful glint in his eyes. "Indeed, my dears," he added with mock severity. "You must learn to comport yourselves with the dignity befitting young ladies of your station."

But the girls paid his admonishments no heed, too caught up in the excitement of the moment to care about propriety. They threw themselves at Turpin with abandon, their laughter filling the air as they clamored for his attention.

Turpin, unable to resist their infectious energy, wrapped his arms around his daughters, pulling them close in a tight embrace. "Very well, my little rascals," he conceded with a chuckle. "But remember, you mustn't forget your manners in the future."

You shook your head in amusement, unable to suppress a smile at the sight of Turpin indulging his daughters' antics. Despite his stern demeanor, there was a tenderness in his interactions with them that spoke volumes about the depth of his love for his children.

In that moment, surrounded by the ones you loved most in the world, you couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the life you had built together. As the laughter of your children echoed through the evening air, Turpin suddenly doubled over, a violent coughing fit seizing him. Concern etched across your features, you quickly rose from your seat and moved to his side.

"Richard, are you alright?" you asked, your voice filled with worry as you gently supported him.

Turpin waved off your concern with a dismissive gesture, though his coughs continued to wrack his frail frame. "I'm fine," he rasped between coughs, his baritone voice strained with effort, "just a minor inconvenience."

But you knew better than to ignore the signs of his declining health. With a firm hand, you helped him to his feet, guiding him back towards the house with gentle insistence.

"Let's get you back to the bedroom," you said firmly, your tone brooking no argument, "you need to rest."

Surprisingly, Turpin didn't protest, instead grasping his cane tightly as he leaned on you for support. Together, you made your way back into the house, calling out to the children as you passed through the doorway.

"William, Sophia, Belladonna," you called out, your voice carrying through the halls, "time to wash up for dinner."

The children, obedient as always, responded promptly, their footsteps echoing as they made their way inside. As they passed Turpin, who was already halfway up the stairs, he couldn't help but scold them for their reckless behavior.

"Mind your manners on the stairs, children," he admonished sternly, though the trio paid his warnings little heed as they dashed past him, eager to wash up before dinner.

Turpin sighed wearily as you reached his side, helping him up the stairs with careful steps. Once in the bedroom, you assisted him in laying down on the bed, his coughs gradually subsiding as he settled into a more comfortable position.

Watching him closely, you began to undress him, your hands moving with practiced ease as you removed his formal attire. Turpin watched you silently, a hint of sadness flickering in his eyes.

"You're still so young," he commented softly, his voice tinged with regret, "you shouldn't have to take care of an old man like me."

You didn't respond to his words, instead focusing on the task at hand as you dressed him in comfortable clothes. With gentle hands, you tucked him in, ensuring he was warm and comfortable before turning to leave the room.

But Turpin's sudden grip on your wrist stopped you in your tracks. Startled, you met his gaze, only to find his eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and resolve.

"Do you remember the sentence I gave you years ago?" he whispered, his voice barely above a hoarse murmur.

You nodded slowly, the memory of his possessive decree resurfacing with painful clarity. "Yes," you replied softly, your heart heavy with the weight of his words, "I remember."

Turpin's nose twitched slightly as he studied your face, his expression pained. "Forget that sentence," he said abruptly, surprising you with the suddenness of his request.

Confusion clouded your features as you looked at him, searching his eyes for any hint of deception. "What?" you asked incredulously, unable to comprehend his sudden change of heart.

"You are still young," Turpin continued, his voice trembling with emotion, "you deserve a man who will take care of you, who will love you as I never could."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you listened to his words, a mixture of sadness and disbelief washing over you. Turpin had always been possessive, demanding your unwavering loyalty with cruel insistence. And yet, here he was, urging you to forget his decree, to seek happiness beyond the confines of your marriage.

"You're crazy," you whispered hoarsely, your voice thick with emotion, "if you think I'll ever look for another man."

Turpin reached out to brush away your tears, his touch surprisingly gentle against your skin. "You deserve to live, to find happiness," he insisted, his own eyes shining with unshed tears, "even if it's not with me."

But you shook your head, unable to accept his words, unable to fathom a life without him by your side. "Shut up," you whispered brokenly, your voice barely above a whisper, "Just shut up."

For the first time in your life, you defied Turpin's orders, your heart rebelling against the notion of a future without him. Despite his cruelty, despite his flaws, you loved him with a fierceness that defied reason, that defied logic.

Turpin's expression softened momentarily, his gaze filled with a mixture of frustration and sorrow. "You silly, stupid woman," he muttered under his breath, his baritone voice tinged with anguish.

You looked away, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze, the weight of his words heavy on your heart. With a trembling hand, you attempted to pull away from him, to distance yourself from the pain of his rejection.

But Turpin refused to let you go, his grip on your wrist tightening with unexpected strength. "No," he said firmly, his voice commanding despite its tremulous quality, "You will listen to me, damn it!"

Startled by the sudden change in his demeanor, you turned back to face him, your eyes wide with surprise. Turpin's hooked nose twitched slightly as he studied your face, his expression torn between anger and desperation.

"I may be cruel, I may be a monster," he began, his voice barely above a hoarse whisper, "but I cannot bear the thought of you suffering because of me."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you listened to his words, the raw emotion in his voice cutting through the layers of resentment and anger that had built up between you. Despite his flaws, despite his cruelty, you couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for the man before you.

Turpin reached out to brush away your tears, his touch surprisingly gentle against your skin. "Listen to me," he pleaded, his voice cracking with emotion, "if there are other lives, if there is a chance for redemption, I will find you."

You blinked in disbelief, unable to comprehend the magnitude of his promise. "What do you mean?" you whispered hoarsely, your voice filled with uncertainty.

Turpin's gaze bore into yours, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "If one day I am reborn, if one day I have the chance to make amends for my sins," he said solemnly, "I will look for you. In every life, in every world, I will look for you."

A sob caught in your throat as you listened to his words, the weight of his promise settling over you like a heavy blanket. Despite everything, despite the pain and the heartache, you couldn't deny the truth in his eyes, the sincerity in his voice.

"Because you are mine," Turpin continued, his voice filled with a quiet intensity, "and I am yours. And nothing, not even death itself, can change that."

"Richard..."

Suddenly, Lionel jolted awake from his bed, disoriented and slightly bewildered by the vividness of his dream. Running his hands through his hair, he looked around the dimly lit bedroom, the remnants of the dream still lingering in his mind.

With a groan, Lionel reached over and disarmed the alarm at the head of his bed, silencing its incessant beeping. Damn these crazy dreams, he thought to himself, shaking his head in frustration.

As he undressed and stepped into the shower, the hot water cascading over his tired body, Lionel tried to remember the details of the dream. It was always the same, a smile, but the specifics eluded him, slipping through his fingers like grains of sand.

Furrowing his brow in concentration, Lionel scrubbed at his skin, hoping to shake off the remnants of the dream that clung to him like a stubborn shadow. He had better things to think about, like the party he was hosting today and the Monet he planned to purchase.

But try as he might, the memory of the dream persisted, taunting him with its elusive details. Frustrated, Lionel leaned against the tiled wall of the shower, closing his eyes and willing the images to fade away.

As the steam filled the air around him, Lionel took a deep breath, letting the warmth of the water soothe his tired muscles. He had a busy day ahead of him, and he couldn't afford to dwell on a mere dream.

With renewed determination, Lionel finished his shower and stepped out into the cool air of the bathroom, the memory of the dream still lingering at the edges of his mind. But as he dried himself off and got dressed, he pushed the thoughts aside, focusing instead on the tasks that lay ahead.

There would be time to ponder the meaning of his dreams later. For now, Lionel had a party to host and a painting to acquire, and nothing was going to stand in his way.

Lionel's brow furrowed in frustration as he examined the counterfeit Monet in front of him, the queen's face mocking him from the canvas. He sighed heavily as Harry Deane and PJ Puznowski walked away, his heart still racing with the realization of how close he had come to being tricked.

"Damn it," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head in disbelief at his own gullibility. He had almost fallen for their scheme, but he refused to let himself dwell on it any longer. There were more pressing matters at hand, and Lionel couldn't afford to waste time regretting his near-miss.

Straightening his bow tie with a determined gesture, Lionel plastered a smile on his face and made his way back to the party. He had a reputation to maintain, after all, and he couldn't let a little setback ruin his evening.

As he mingled with the guests, exchanging pleasantries and discussing business deals, Lionel couldn't shake the feeling of unease that lingered at the back of his mind. It was as if something was tugging at his subconscious, pulling him towards a truth he couldn't quite grasp.

And then, he saw her.

She was standing across the room, surrounded by two other women, her sweet smile lighting up her face. Lionel felt his heart skip a beat as their eyes met, a sense of déjà vu washing over him like a tidal wave.

For a few precious seconds, the world seemed to fade away as he stared at her, captivated by the warmth and kindness in her eyes. It was a sensation unlike anything he had ever experienced before, a feeling that defied explanation.

But before he could dwell on it any longer, she looked away, turning back to her friends and resuming her conversation. Lionel watched her with a mixture of longing and confusion, his mind racing with questions he couldn't begin to answer.

Who was she? And why did she stir something within him that he couldn't quite define?

With a shake of his head, Lionel forced himself to focus on the task at hand. He had a party to host and guests to entertain, and he couldn't afford to let his thoughts wander.

But as the evening wore on, he found himself stealing glances in her direction, unable to shake the feeling that he had found something he never knew he was searching for.

It was then that he noticed her uniform, the realization dawning on him with a sense of disbelief. She was a waitress, just another face in the crowd, and yet... there was something about her that stirred a sense of familiarity within him.

With a rueful laugh, Lionel shook his head, dismissing the notion as absurd. But deep down, he couldn't shake the feeling that he had found something important, something worth holding onto amidst the chaos of his extravagant life.

And as he watched her move gracefully through the crowd, laughter dancing in her eyes, Lionel couldn't help but feel a sense of hope stir within him.

Perhaps, just perhaps, he had finally found what he had been looking for all along.

[monsoon-of-art]

Little Writing thing, wanted to write some Hayday, but from the perspective of Xavier, his Ray-Of-Sunshine coworker at a grocery store.

Xavier really wasn’t sure what to make of his new coworker. Sure, Mister Murphy was going on about needing a cashier, and Xavier was a little happy to have another dude to hang with, there was just…something about Lee.

His name was Lee. Or, at least that’s what he liked to be called. Mister Murphy began saying a name starting with a “C”, but Lee was quick to speak over him. Lee was fine.

Lee was…strange. For starters he was tall as anything, and he grimaced when Xavier tried to crack a joke about it. Maybe he had heard that one before. Lee was tall and pale, had green eyes (with very dark circles around them) and dirty-blonde hair about the length of his shoulders.

Tangerine playfully asked if he cut it himself, and Lee - without any hint of sarcasm - nodded.

Xavier was more than happy to train the man, showing him how to clock in, where his locker was, where the cash registers were stored, how to set up his till, all standard practice.

(He swore he saw Lee’s hands twitch when he opened the safe with the registers inside. Maybe he was nervous at handling them, and Xavier wouldn’t blame him one bit.)

Lee had been silent on his first day, save for a nod or a shake of the head. But by the end of the day, he thanked Xavier for the help, and the man had the thickest southern accent he had ever heard.

Xavier tried to crack a lighthearted joke about the accent, earning himself only a sneer. He had probably heard that one too.

Soon enough, Lee settled in well enough.

He was…a little strange. Xavier wasn’t quite sure what to think of him.

He was skittish, jumpy almost. He barely smiled, and when he did, they were hesitant, tight-lipped smirks. Xavier had only heard him laugh once, a downright sinister sounding snicker when Tangerine tried to do a tiktok dance on the table and fell. He was helpful to customers and to the other coworkers, but the moment he was on break, Lee wasn’t going to let anything stop him from taking it. He drank coffee like a fish drank water, and Xavier had never ever seen him bring a lunch, but Lee was happy to ‘take care’ of products that couldn’t be sold.

Xavier thought of his level thirteen Harengon rogue in his current campaign when he thought of Lee. He was definitely jumpy like a rabbit, and he definitely had some rogue-like qualities.

Mister Murphy locked himself out of the office one morning, and Lee quietly offered to pick the lock on the condition he got to leave with a full day’s pay and zero questions.

Mister Murphy had called bullshit, and truthfully, so did Xavier. But Lee pulled something out of his pocket and picked the lock then and there.

And immediately walked out.

Lee was…a mystery. Xavier couldn’t help but think of the mystery campaign he ran two winters ago, where the key to solving it was learning more about the mansion’s mysterious owner. But this wasn’t his campaign, and Lee stubbornly remained closed off.

Xavier had tried; he tried all the jokes he knew, he tried inviting him to places afterwork, he even extended a seat in one of his Dungeons and Dragons campaigns, offering a freshly written half-elf rogue just for Lee.

Lee rejected all of his efforts. He rejected everyone else, too; Joy offering him to join her book club (a thinly veiled ask to make him do work around the house, something that Xavier had fallen for), Tangerine asking him to do tiktoks with her, even Hannah had sheepishly asked him for drinks after work.

“‘m busy.” he’d say sipping from his seventh cup of coffee. (Yes, Xavier had counted.)

“With whaaaat?” Tangerine asked, leaning closer. “What do you even do after work? You’re always in such a hurry to leave.”

“Not important.” Lee continued to deflect, free hand tapping on the table. By now, Xavier knew he did this when he was nervous. “Man’s allowed his privacy.”  

“Right you are!” Xavier cheerfully agreed, giving Lee a good-natured slap on the shoulder. “We only bug you because we’re curious, dude.”

Lee gave him an unimpressed glare over the rim of his coffee cup.

A strange development happened a few weeks later. The newspaper had arrived, with details on a relatively new villain that had begun to stalk the city streets at night. Updates on villains wasn’t anything out of the ordinary…but this new villain gave Xavier the creeps.

This villain had yet to identify themselves, had yet to make a grand, dramatic speech about their goals or wants. For all the city knew, this new villain robbed places blind, and had tried to kill Dragonfly the very first night they appeared.

The papers were calling it ‘the Scarecrow’. Xavier wondered if the thing was even human, he certainly didn’t think so. Gaunt and lanky with patchwork clothes and a wide-brimmed hat, looking like it had walked right out of a horror movie with the scythe it held.

Luckily, the papers weren’t on his checkstand. Xavier honestly didn’t know if he would be able to handle it.

They were on Lee’s checkstand, though, and the poor guy looked shaken up about it. White as a sheet, one hand covering his mouth while the other anxiously tapped on the counter. Sure, Lee was jumpy, but Xavier had never seen him like this before. Not even when he broke a bottle of wine and Mister Murphy called him into the back office to reprimand him.

“Oh, dude, Lee-” Xavier started to say, voice sympathetic. “-I’m sorry you got those on your checkstand. I wouldn’t be able to handle it- That thing gives me the heebie jeebies, man.”

Lee’s eyes darted over to him, wide and frantic. He cracked a nervous smile, half-covered by his hand, “I-It’s just a man in a suit, ain’t it?” he asked, voice cracking. The tapping grew louder and faster. “H-He hasn’t hurt n-nobody…”

Xavier winced, hissing through his teeth. “I dunno man. I heard it like- eats people’s hearts? Or something like that!”

That’s what one article hypothesized, anyway. The author was a little far-fetched, but she was the only one coming up with actual ideas. Her theory was that the scarecrow had been brought to life by some kind of ritual, and now sought precious gemstones for its master, and blood to keep itself satiated.

Lee’s entire demeanor changed. Now, he looked at the man as if Xavier had suddenly started speaking Russian backwards. “...yer not serious.” he said, sounding completely unamused.

“Yeah man! Blood rituals! That’s what I heard. It’s kind of like an encounter in the Curse of Strahd-”

“I need to open my till now.” Lee cut him off firmly, heavily implying he was done with this conversation.

Xavier watched him for the rest of the shift, worried. Lee didn’t smile once that day, and his hands shook when he’d hand bags of groceries to customers.

Lee had somehow become even more withdrawn afterwards. He barely spoke, and he looked even more tired than usual. 

This puzzled Xavier. Lee had never reacted this way to other villains in the newspaper. Maybe he was just scared and didn't want to talk about it. Toxic masculinity was a hell of a thing, and Xavier gave Lee his space, encouraging the others to do the same.

Once the newspapers were replaced, he slowly started acting as he usually did. His weird, closed-off, usual self.

During a slow day, Tangerine grabbed the TV remote from Mister Murphy’s office. “Guys, guys, Dragonfly’s on the news!” she shouted, turning up the volume to the little television on the corner of the ceiling.

Seeing their city’s Superhero during the day was a rare sight. It looked like she was fighting a giant robot of some kind, the news report barely able to film the fight.

“Ooh, I hope that’s far from us.” muttered Joy, pretending to sweep as she watched.

Tangerine shrugged. “That looks like the other side of the city, we should be fine. Not like the boss would let us go.” She said with a giggle, taking out her phone to start taking selfies.

Xavier noticed Lee was watching with keen interest, and gave him a playful nudge. “That’s right, you’re not from here.”

Lee briefly tore his gaze from the television to give him a sarcastic glance. “What gave it away?”

“This is probably the first time you’ve seen her, huh? The Dragonfly!”

“It’s just Dragonfly, not ‘The’ Dragonfly.” Tangerine corrected, not looking up from her phone.

Xavier rolled his eyes, but turned back to Lee. “What do you think? She’s something, huh? Not every city has their own Superhero!”

Lee didn’t answer. But Xavier could practically see the gears turning in his mind, thinking of a response.

“She’s…she’s somethin’ alright.” he finally said, repeating what Xavier had said. There was a strange tone in his voice, one that Xavier couldn’t really identify. Hesitant? Strained?

“I think she’s super cool. I mean, I sure couldn’t do that, man!” Xavier said, trying to move on. With a sly grin, he said in a hush. “I think she’s kinda hot. Easy on the eyes, you know?”

Xavier nearly burst into laughter at how red Lee’s face got at that. “Leeeee, you’re a dog! I won’t tell anyone, don’t worry!”

“She does her job.” Lee tried to insist, crossing his arms over his chest. “And she does her job well, from what I’ve seen. I can respect that.”

How very pragmatic. How very…him. Xavier smiled and pat him on the back. “Least we got one thing in common, huh dude?”

Lee gave him a long, unimpressed look before shrugging. “Sure. One thing. One thing in common.”

[holylulusworld]

The assistant (9) - Revenge for champions

Summary: You are invisible most of the time.

Pairing: Former!Boss!Steve Rogers x Former!Assistant(plussized)!Reader

Possible pairing: Jake Jensen x Reader, Lloyd Hansen x Reader, Curtis Everett x Reader, Ari Levinson x Reader, Andy Barber x Reader, Mike Weiss x Reader

Warnings: angst, flirty CEvans characters, language, plussized/chubby reader, protective brothers, Lloyd being Lloyd, fluff, domestic brothers, Steve Rogers being annoying, arguments

The assistant masterlist

The assistant (8) – A Captain and six brothers

That bastard is still out there. He’s lurking,” Lloyd grumbles angrily. “Let me get the big guns out. I’ll kill him with one precise blow to his ugly face.”

“Lloyd we talked about this. We won’t kill Captain America,” Andy tuts. He checks on the security cameras again.

“But the thought is nice—” Lloyd flashes his brother a smirk. “Right? Don’t you want to lose control sometimes and just punch the asshole?”

“You’ll only break your hand,” you grab Lloyd’s hand before he can punch an invisible enemy. “We talked about this. Let me handle my former boss. He’s stubborn but will lose interest soon enough.”

“I don’t think he will leave anytime soon,” Ari looks out of the window to keep an eye on Steve. He’s sitting in front of the gate, pouting like an angry child.

“Fine,” you huff. “He leaves me no choice.” You get your phone out to call someone to get Steve off your friends’ property. “I hate getting him involved, but this can’t be helped.”

“Gentlemen,” Tony watches you and the brothers step out of the mansion. He grins and licks his lips at Steve’s reaction. The captain barks orders at your friends, ready to take the gate down.

“Mr. Stark, thank you for coming,” you usher the brothers toward the gate. “I didn’t know what else to do. The captain won’t believe me that I stay at my friends’ place on free terms.”

Tony flashes you a smile. He’s still disappointed that you didn’t want to work for him but understands that you needed space and tried to start a new life, with a new job. 

“Anything for you, darling,” he gives you a curt nod before turning his attention toward Steve. “Cap, we should go now. There’s nothing for us to do here.”

“Tony, they are holding Y/N hostage,” Steve points at you standing next to the brothers. Ari, Lloyd, and Curtis immediately crowd you. “See, they won’t let her breathe. I can only imagine what they have done to her since she came here.”

“OH, yeah,” Tony smirks at his friend. “She looks very displeased.” He quirks a brow. 

“See—” Steve nods. “You can see it too!”

“Steve, I tried to be sarcastic. Y/N is glowing and looks happy. We should leave her and her friends alone.”

“No! I won’t leave her to these vultures wanting to take advantage of her kindness and innocence. I have to save her!”

“Ah,” the cocky billionaire nods thoughtfully. “I think we are having a Snow White situation here.” Tony smirks at his friend. 

“What do you mean, asshat?” Lloyd grunts, ready to fight Iron Man and Captain America if he must.

“Seven guys longing for one woman?” Tony snickers. “Six brothers and one Captain trying to win the beautiful princess’s heart over.”

“I understand that reference, but I’m not a dwarf, Tony,” Steve grunts. “If she’s Snow White, then I’m the Prince Charming!” He points at the brother. “And these men are not friendly dwarfs but criminals and kidnappers.”

“Hey! I’m not a dwarf either, Iron Bucket,” Lloyd angrily glares at Tony. “I know you were always good to Y/N, but I won’t let you get away with insulting me…or my brothers.”

“Wait! I think Snow White got seven dwarfs, right?” Mike throws in. He furrows his brows, struggling to remember the fairytale their mother used to read to him. “We are only six.”

“This makes Captain asshole the seventh dwarf,” Curtis laughs loudly. “I think he’s the one they called Dopey. He doesn’t understand the simplest things.”

“I’ll free Y/N!” Steve points his index finger at Curtis. “You won’t hurt her on my watch.”

“Hurt her?” Jake has had enough. He steps toward the gate, hands wrapping around the bars. Jake sneers at Steve and grits his teeth. “The only person hurting her was you! She lost her job, the one she loved because you wanted to stick your dick into that stupid bitch’s snatch. What a man you are. Ordering food for everyone but the sweet woman saving your ungrateful ass every day.”

“You know nothing about me and Y/N!” Steve angrily replies. “I-I made mistakes but tried to apologize. When I came to her home, she was gone. Kidnapped by you and your brothers!”

“We didn’t kidnap her! Y/N is my friend. She came to my café to tell me about all the shit you pulled on her. Day after day she worked her cute ass off to make your life easier. Was it too much to ask for that you gave her a little respect and paid for her fucking lunch?” Jake kicks the bars. “I swear, you’re lucky the gate is in between us. If not, you’d be dog food.”

“Whoa, Jakie,” Lloyd places his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Freaking out and threatening people to kill them is my job. How about you bring Y/N back inside and leave this job to me and Ari.”

“She stands right behind you, Lloyd,” you grunt and slap Lloyd’s ass. “I can speak for myself.” You step next to Jake to look Steve in the eyes. “Listen, I know you believe what you are doing is the right thing, but you couldn’t be more wrong. These men are my friends. Jake is my friend and he’d never hurt me. Please just leave.”

“But they—” Steve points at Lloyd. “I don’t trust them. I know you are kind and believe people are always good, but there are bad people out there, who want to take advantage of a pretty girl like you. I can’t let them do this to you.”

“My friends won’t harm me in any way,” you purse your lips. “I’m not like Sandy, a damsel in distress. I don’t look tough like Agent Romanoff, but I know how to defend myself.”

“She can defend herself,” Ari places his hand on your shoulder, “but she doesn’t have to. We are here to defend her and her honor. So, if you’d kindly fuck off now, we want to have dinner with our lovely Y/N.”

“Tony, don’t you have anything to say?” Steve despairs. He can see the determination in your eyes and can only hope you are not wrong. He’d never forgive himself if these men take advantage of you. “Do something!”

“Alright,” Tony claps his hands. “I got enough of this, kiddos. I’m too old for this shit.” He says. “Even though, Capsicle is older than me.” 

“Tony!” 

“How about you let Steve stay for the night? He promises to behave, and you promise to let him have a look at Y/N’s room.”

“He can have a look at my ass before I let him inside my home!” Lloyd points at his ass. 

“Uh-I don’t know,” Mike murmurs. “If he can have a look around the house and sees that we are treating Y/N with respect, he’ll leave us alone.”

“I hate to say it, but Mike ain’t wrong,” Andy throws in. “He won’t leave and I’m not much into getting spied on. Having Captain America lurk around your house is bad for our reputation. People will start asking questions.”

Steve watches the brothers and you discuss Tony’s suggestion. He uses his enhanced hearing to listen to your heartbeat. Your heart beats normally. You’re not afraid at the moment, but he’s still not convinced that you are not in danger.

“Fine by me.” Steve finally says. 

“The shield stays outside,” Lloyd points at Steve’s shield. “…and you won’t set foot into our home wearing your ugly suit. Civilian clothes, no shield.”

“He’ll follow your rules and leave your house, tomorrow morning,” Tony stretches his hand out. “I give you my word, Mr. Hansen.”

“I’ll keep you up on that promise,” Lloyd grabs Tony’s hand. He squeezes hard, making sure Tony knows the man in front of him isn’t afraid of Iron Man at all. “If you break it…well…you don’t want to know what happens if you fuck with Lloyd Hansen.”

“Revenge for champions will happen,” Ari grunts. He points at Tony. “You better keep your buddy in line. If not, I’ll release the beast.”

“…I’m the beast,” Lloyd smirks darkly. “I love letting hellfire rain down on my enemies. Especially when I can defend our sweet Y/N…”

Part 10

Tags in reblog.

[daytaker]

hii hellooo, may i request brothers with a clown core mc? their outfits most often being very colorful but their personality being the opposite? like somewhat cold and very blunt, not talking much and if talking then it’s about something mildly disturbing like murder investigations or an odd fascination with deadly diseases stuff like that

sorry that it’s extremely specific and thank you regardless _(┐「ε:)_

Clown Anon MCs - [ Clowncore MC | Death-Fixated Science Geek MC | LeVeyan Satanist MC ]

When you first arrived, no one was sure what to think. They looked you over. Your pink hair, your cyan shorts. A yellow T-shirt and rainbow suspenders. Gaudy makeup and adorable pink tennis shoes. Beaded bracelets and necklaces and colorful tights.

And a box of smokes in your back pocket.

"Welcome to the House of Lamentation," Lucifer says, gesturing grandly at the stately mansion ahead of you.

You say nothing. Instead, you pull out a cigarette and a lighter. Taking a drag, you lazily gaze at the house, then back at your host, who looks disgusted.

"Make sure you only do that outside," he says, nodding to the box of cigarettes in your hand.

You blow a puff of smoke in his face and start walking to the door, completely ignoring the sounds of Lucifer struggling to contain his rage.

"Why's it called that?" you finally ask as you stop at the front doors. "'House of Lamentation'?"

Lucifer, having composed himself by now, steps up beside you. "This is a replica of a house from the human world," he explains. "In it, an entire family was murdered; the parents, the servant, and six of their seven sons. The seventh--"

"Ohhh. This is the Sutton house," you say, nodding.

"Excuse me?"

"The Sutton house. Massachusetts, 1923. Elijah Sutton, oldest of seven sons, runs into the local tavern screaming that his servant killed the whole family and himself. Most folks today think it was Elijah who really did it. I know I do."

You take one more drag from your cigarette, then drop it on the ground and put it out with the heel of your shoe.

"So this is their house, huh? Sick."

---

It's breakfast on your second day in the Devildom. You took extra time to apply your godawful makeup this morning, and you're sure it shows, because the brothers keep glancing at you as if they're not quite sure what they should say.

"You talk to them, Mammon," mumbles Satan. "You're their babysitter."

"Ah... ahem." Mammon casts a glare at his brother, then looks at you. "So, uh... Human." You stare at him with a dead-eyed expression that seems to unnerve him even more. "...We're goin' to RAD today, and there's a couple a things you should know." You continue staring.

Mammon looks to his brothers for help, but they all avoid eye contact. "Uhhh... Just... try not to get eaten, 'kay? Lucifer'll be pissed if you die on my watch."

"Do demons eat people?" you ask. "Like, raw?"

"Sometimes! So don't mess around with 'em, got it?"

"That's gotta be messy as fuck."

"It is!"

"You got any photos?"

"....Eh?"

---

"So I get that you're the seven deadly sins," you say to Satan, sprawled out in an armchair in the library, "but like... is that all you guys got here?"

Satan, who had been minding his own business and innocently reading a book of curses, looks irritated. "Is that all of what?"

"I dunno. Bad shit shaped like people." You shrug. "Like, you got the Four Horsemen or somethin'?"

"Of course not," Satan snaps. "That would be ridiculous."

You shrug. "Embodiment of plague? Too ridiculous to believe. Embodiment of wrath? Well, obviously that's a thing."

---

"You have to make pacts with Lucifer and his brothers," Belphie urges you through the door. You stare at him, then take a drag from your cigarette. As long as Lucifer is occupied in the music room with that weird record, you're going to break every rule in this damn house.

"How am I supposed to do that? Am I gonna split up my soul Horcrux style? Give everybody a slice?"

Belphie stares at you for a few seconds. You don't realize how badly he wishes he could kill you in this moment. "Are you going to help me or not?"

You shrug. "What do I get out of it?"

He blinks at you in utter bewilderment. "You... make me happy?"

You stare at him. He stares at you. You stare at him. He continues to stare at you.

You head back down the stairs.

[sebastianswallows]

A new family — Chapter 1

— PAIRING: dark!Ominis Gaunt x F!MC

— SYNOPSIS: Ominis gets tired of his family and how miserable life is with them after he graduates. So he follows Sebastian's example for once, and kills them in cold blood. Now that he has the mansion to himself, he discovers he would still like to have a family, but one of his own making.

— WARNINGS: angst, culminating in murder

— WORDCOUNT: 2.1k

— A/N: Following A Different Kind of Key, I got a prompt for breeding kink with Ominis. I decided to combine this with a fic idea I had included in a poll a few months ago, which was that Ominis kills his parents in revenge, and begins to appreciate the dark arts. I don't know yet how many chapters this will have, but get ready for a dark and manipulative Ominis, and smut 💕 Enjoy, my dears!

It wasn’t like Ominis to say Sebastian inspired him. But that was, in a strange twist of events, what ended up happening.

The day Solomon died changed everything between the four friends involved with it. Sebastian and Anne’s uncle was gone, Sebastian was the one who killed him and Anne was left distraught, their fifth-year-friend was there when it all happened, and Ominis was left feeling like the earth was pulled from underneath him, not knowing where he’ll land. During the following days, Anne buried Solomon and ran. He knew where she was, but was sworn to secrecy never to reveal it to anyone, particularly not to Sebastian. It was a difficult request, but Ominis expected it to be made easier by Sebastian’s inevitable indictment for murder, which was bound to come any day now — right?

Their friend, who even witnessed the murder, refused to turn him in. That left the weight of the choice to Ominis, but he was easily swayed. Why lose two friends when he’s already lost one? So he said nothing…

During the months that followed, the weight of all that happened hung over them like a sword, like a noose ready to drop, like a tipping avalanche. Yet nothing happened. They entered the sixth year, and then the seventh. Anne healed from the curse’s influence — it turned out that Rookwood was the real culprit — and Sebastian graduated from Hogwarts — with the commendations of all their professors — and it had almost escaped Ominis how surreal the whole thing was, but sometimes he reminded himself that Sebastian had gotten away with murder.

It was a struggle to push down just how impressed he was. Sebastian had gotten practically everything he wanted: Anne was cured, Solomon was out of the way in a permanent fashion, and their mutual friend, well, she was under Sebastian’s sway now as much as he was under hers. Complicity did that…

It wasn’t fair. His best friend had a brilliant career ahead of him in whatever field he chose, he had every opportunity now to look for his sister again, and his perfidious little friendship was blooming into a romance day by day — meanwhile, what did Ominis have to look forward to? A return to his parents’ clutches and some arranged incestuous marriage, no doubt.

It wasn’t fair. All his other classmates were cheerful to be done with school, optimistic, hopeful, happy. They had jobs and girlfriends and some were even due to marry. And Sebastian, disgustingly, behaved as if nothing had happened in fifth year, as if he wasn’t a murderer.

It wasn’t fair.

Ominis rode in the cabin with his two friends on the train back to London, where Sebastian was excited to go and apply for a position with Borgin and Burkes.

“You know you’d do better in the ministry…” their friend told him, the smile in her voice teasing but sweet.

“Funny,” chuckled Sebastian.

“You’re still afraid of them?” she goaded.

“I think they should be afraid of me,” said Sebastian quietly, leaning toward her over Ominis. “The score is still one-nill last I checked.”

“Yes, but they don’t know that,” she said, leaning toward him too so that they now hovered somewhere around Ominis’ chest.

“And I plan to keep it that way,” said Sebastian.

“Excuse me,” said Ominis, pretending not to know they were there and getting up briskly enough to knock them back.

“Omi—!”

“Hey, watch it!”

He grabbed his wand and went out of cabin, shutting the door behind him. He pretended to go to the restroom, and pretended to use it for the next 15 minutes, and pretended not to hold back tears of jealousy.

Things only got worse once he arrived home. His parents did not exactly welcome him with open arms, although he had excelled in his NEWTs and was among the best students of his year. No, they behaved as if he’d just been done with a silly distraction, that filthy school that took in mudbloods, and his filthy friends from lowborn families, and now his real life started, said his father, and the fun was over.

He lasted two weeks until he murdered them.

He considered doing it in their sleep, but he wanted them awake. It was the evening of the 17th of July, and it rained and hailed all throughout supper. Ominis pretended to retreat early for the night, leaving them all together in the dining room, tired and mellow with firewhisky.

The doors shut on their own as if by a gust of wind. The chandeliers and fireplace were frozen with a spell. And the dining room was plunged into utter darkness.

A decanter was knocked to the floor and his father was cursing, and his mother called out from the top of her lungs for the elves, but Ominis had sent them away. His sister was rambling something about the house being haunted. They were learning now what it was like for him, what it had always been like for him, although he didn’t imagine they could appreciate it. He cast off the disillusionment spell, he didn’t need it anymore, and summoned all their wands to him wordlessly. Disarmed and scared and in the dark, he picked them off one by one.

First, his sister. He surprised himself by not shaking at all as he did it. In fact, he had never been more calm — was this how Sebastian had felt?

Their mother became noticeably quiet when she saw the brief green light and heard a body fall, but it took a while until she found her, feeling around on the floor. She barely said her daughter’s name in anguish before Ominis killed her too.

His father was left, and by then he’d begun to suspect, calling his name and prowling through the pitch black in that lumbering way he did. Ominis allowed him to hear his footsteps coming closer.

“I know it’s you, you little rat,” spat Gaunt Senior, facing him but standing still. “I heard you say it.”

“And you’ll hear it again,” said Ominis coolly, “right before you drop dead.”

“If only your brother were h—”

“Avada kedavra.”

The flash of green enveloped his body as it collapsed to the floor, and then it was gone, and it was dark again.

Not that Ominis noticed a difference. All he knew now was quiet, and peace, and loneliness. He finally had a life work looking forward to.

The first order of business was to get rid of the bodies, which he accomplished by turning them into teacups and finding a place for them in the glass cabinet in the living room. Brushing his finger across one, he thought it felt different from normal porcelain — a bit more rough, less cold, like bone — but their shape and weight were otherwise quite perfect. He smiled as he put them away.

The next issue was what to do with his brother… Marvolo lived somewhere in London, and he had enough friends there already that his absence would be noted. And he would not come back to the Gaunt manor just because Ominis called. Even if he did, he’d inquire as to what happened to their parents.

Which brought him to the last and final point: how to explain their absence.

He spent the next hour packing their wands, their cloaks, a cauldron, a few ingredients, and a sacrificial dagger, and then he went off into the nearby woods. They sometimes went there to perform spells that called for incantations and ritual sacrifice of the local fauna, often not returning until morning, stinking of wet dirt and blood. He could say a spell went wrong, an animal attacked, and there was no trace left of them but a few less-than-savoury items.

It was quite a trek to make all on his own, even levitating the items behind him, which often snagged in the low branches and the weeds. When he thought he was far enough, he planted the cauldron in the middle of a clearing and stuck the dagger in the earth, scattering the other items all around in what might be a convincing pattern should anyone come look.

Morning found him in his bed, alone and dirty, but content.

Ominis smiled and turned on his back, and listened: quiet. No screaming, no fights, no one ordering him around, no threats of violence, no curses, nothing.

It took about twenty minutes for that to start to bother him.

His fingers toyed with the wand which rested on his stomach, and he thought about all the times he’d judged Sebastian for using the Unforgivables. A part of him still found it abhorrent, because Sebastian was never in such a situation as he had been with his family. However bad Solomon was, he wasn’t like the Gaunts. Meanwhile, another part whispered that he should feel ashamed.

“But I don’t,” he said to himself, speaking with nobody else to hear. “I’m not. I’m not sorry.”

And he wasn’t, for many days to come. When the house elves returned from the prolonged shopping trip Ominis had sent them on, he told him the same lie he had prepared — Mister Gaunt had gone with his family in the woods to perform a ritual but hadn’t yet returned, and Ominis was worried, oh but no need for the elves to go, they needed to tend to the house — and went through the coming days just as he normally would, and soon forgot he’d ever had a family at all. And yet the house seemed larger than before, and behind each corner he still suspected some malevolent force, within each sound a muttered curse or insult, and although he knew them to be safely dead, transfigured in the cabinet, he had moments in the night when he thought they had returned to take revenge.

It wore away at him, and he knew he had to resolve it with a change in circumstance: either he moved away, or he made the house livable again. He didn’t consider even for a second to write to his brother Marvolo, but he considered asking for Sebastian to visit together with their friend — until his thoughts settled strictly on her.

On a whim, he wrote to her, and her alone. The owl took a few days to return, and it brought to him a strangely mournful and yet exciting message.

Ominis had inquired about her health — she was well — and her search for work — not so well — and Sebastian.

“It pains me to say this,” she wrote, “but I do not know. Sebastian has been sent to recover something (I know not what) for Mr Burke. Part of his training, he said. As if he weren’t experienced enough in these sorts of things. I told him, as I’m sure you would have as well, that Mr Burke was only going to take advantage of him and gain a dangerous item at no personal cost, and is only using Sebastian’s goodwill and enthusiasm. He did not take it well and has yet to speak to me since. He said I called him ‘naive’, but I did nothing of the sort.”

Ominis chuckled as his wand vocalised the letter. It was blatant she did think Sebastian naive, just as it was blatantly true that he was.

“To be perfectly honest, I haven’t had a good night’s sleep since, for various reasons,” she continued, “but I find my worries and upsets dwindle into something perhaps similar to what you felt at Hogwarts when Sebastian would get involved in these sort of reckless things — frustration.”

Ominis’ smile broadened. Her clear longing for Sebastian, her worry for his safety, her shameless affection, did not serve him — but frustration, he could work with. He picked up his dictation quill and a piece of parchment and sat down at his desk to write.

“My dear,” he started, “I am first of all happy to hear you are well and healthy, in spite of everything else seemingly falling apart around you. I am sorry, although not surprised, to hear about the novel way Sebastian has found to make a nuisance of himself. You have my full sympathies.

You have also, if you will not find it too forward, my invitation to join me at my parents’ mansion. I think it would be good for you. It is in a quiet and undisturbed area, close to London but surrounded by ancient woods. Without my family present, as they currently are — and we can discuss this too once you arrive — it is a most calming and comforting place, which sounds like just the sort of thing you need at present. You are welcome to stay for the remainder of the summer. It might help you find some balance in your life, perhaps even give you new energies to pursue employment — or other means of occupying yourself.

Please find the address enclosed.

Yours devotedly,

Ominis

P.S.: If indeed he does return in the interim, make no mention of this to Sebastian.”

[emmg]

Larian really did it, eh? They took one look at all the rich possibilities for complex, deeply layered antagonists and thought, "Nah, screw that. Let’s just make a devil who could probably cum just by looking at his own reflection." And somehow—somehow—it worked. Like, I know I’m showing up late to the party here, but holy hells, they cooked up Raphael, a mysterious, narcissistic, probably-can-suck-his-own-dick-until-he’s-cross-eyed kind of character, who has about as much emotional depth as a puddle of jizz. And the fandom? The fandom was like, “Oh yes, Daddy, I would like a side of that. And make it extra toxic.”

Let’s be real here, the man struts around like he’s the second coming of every goddamn god in the Realms, practically making love to his own shadow as it follows him around. And we're all like, “Yeah, that’s it. That’s my guy.” He’s the type who wakes up, glances at himself in the mirror, and you know the first words out of his mouth are, “How do you do it, you stunning, devastatingly perfect beast?”

And when he’s done looking at himself, he watches his own cum drip down the mirror like it’s some kind of divine art installation. He’s just standing there, all smug, probably biting his lip, admiring the drip as if it’s the Sistine Chapel and muttering, “Exquisite. Truly a masterpiece, Raphael. You outdo yourself again.”

And yet. And yet. Despite the fact that he lasts about as long in bed as it takes me to throw out any remaining shred of dignity I possess—spoiler alert, it’s not long at all—the fandom is still like, “Oh yes, give me that.” I mean, let’s call it what it is: Raphael is over here jerking off in front of a mirror, flexing his wings, probably biting his lip and winking at his reflection while moaning something like, “I’m the real devil here,” and somehow people are out there thirsting after him like he’s offering a five-course meal instead of trauma with a side of existential dread.

You know this guy practices his sexy monologues in the mirror every morning, right? There’s no way he doesn’t. He’s probably standing there, buck-ass naked, wings unfurled, saying something ridiculous like, “Oh, Tav, you poor fool. You never stood a chance,” while blowing a kiss to his own reflection. And you know the moment Tav walks in, he’s like, “Oh, didn’t see you there,” as if he wasn’t just mid-flex, trying to decide if his pecs or his horns were his best feature today.

Honestly, Raphael probably thinks missionary is an act of charity. He’s not trying to make anyone else feel good—he’s just giving you the honor of basking in his sheer, unfiltered glory. Meanwhile, you’re over here just happy to be involved while he’s thinking about how good his ass must look reflected in the chandelier above. He’s like, “Oh yes, you love this. Everyone loves this. I love this,” as if the entire experience is just him doing you a favor by letting you witness the seventh wonder of the world: him.

AO3 is out here churning out fanfiction like, “Raphael’s sweat dripped down his perfectly sculpted abs, glistening in the flickering candlelight of Avernus as Tav moaned, ‘Oh, Raphael, you’re just so… perfect.’ He smirked, flicking his tongue as if seduction were some high art only he had mastered,” and somehow we’re all reading this like, “Yes. Yes, please.” It’s ridiculous, but are we complaining? Absolutely not. But also what abs? The motherfucker is sipping wine all day and delegating every possible task to everyone but himself. He should have a beer gut.

AO3 has officially become the home for the weirdest, most insane, borderline illegal fantasies you didn’t know you had until Raphael walked in with that velvet voice and that “I’m better than everyone” attitude. And suddenly, you’re reading about how he’s chained Tav to a bed made of solid gold in a mansion on the second layer of Hell, calling her ‘mouse’ like it’s a goddamn pet name while he drafts another contract with one hand and—you know—‘negotiates’ with the other. Tav’s out here thinking, “I could stop this if I wanted,” but really, could she? Could anyone?

Oh, and let’s not forget the taglines on these fics: “Extreme narcissism,” “dubious consent,” “he’s an actual devil, what did you expect?”, “wingplay,” “weird infernal kinks you didn’t know existed,” and my personal favorite, “Raphael’s dick is bigger than his ego (which is saying something).” And somehow, people are eating it up like it’s the best goddamn wine from Avernus, despite the fact that Raphael is probably the kind of guy who’d finish in record time, look over at you, and say something like, “Well, aren’t you lucky to have had me?” before leaving to stare at himself in the mirror again.

At the end of the day, Raphael is the equivalent of someone giving you their business card after mediocre sex and telling you they’re free for a follow-up next Thursday. He’s probably sitting back after three minutes of glorified foreplay, sipping on some infernal wine, dribbling down his chest, cock half-hard and still leaking, saying, “That was a gift, darling. You’re welcome.” Meanwhile, you’re left there thinking, “Is it rude to ask for a refund?” You know he’s terrible for you, but like, what’s the alternative? Not letting him wreck your life? Ridiculous. Absolutely not.

This is the kind of fandom insanity we’ve built, folks. Raphael’s out here jerking off to his own reflection and smirking like he’s some kind of gift to the multiverse, while the rest of us are like, “Yes, Daddy, please tell me more about how you’ve single-handedly ruined my life and maybe take your shirt off while you’re at it.”

And what’s truly wild is that somehow, somehow, we’ve collectively managed to elevate this walking, talking narcissistic wet dream—this smarmy, self-obsessed devil with more self-love than a Greek god on steroids—into the sex icon of the year. Like, how? Raphael’s out here selling delusions of grandeur with a side of, “Oh, by the way, I will absolutely fuck you over, and you’ll thank me for it,” and the fandom’s response? We all just dropped our panties like it’s some kind of compulsory event. Logic? Gone. Self-respect? Out the window. It’s like we’re all standing in line with a collective, “Sir, yes, sir! Please ruin my life.”

[talonabraxas]

THE 7-RUNGED LADDER OF THE MYSTERIES

A symbol of progressive advancement from a lower to a higher sphere, which is common to Freemasonry and to many, if not all, of the Ancient Mysteries. In each, generally, as in Freemasonry, the number of steps was seven.

LADDER, BRAHMANICAL

The symbolic ladder used in the Mysteries of Brahma has seven steps, symbolic of the seven worlds of the Indian universe. The lowest is the Earth; the second, the World of Coexistence; the third, Heaven; the fourth, the Middle World, or intermediate region between the lower and the upper worlds; the fifth, the World of Births, in which souls are born again; the sixth, the Mansion of the Blessed; and the seventh, or topmost round, the Sphere of Truth, the abode of Brahma, who is himself a symbol of the sun.

LADDER, QABALISTIC

The ladder of the Qabalists consists of the ten Sephirot, or Emanations, of Deity. The steps are in an ascending series: Kingdom, Foundation, Splendor, Firmness, Beauty, Justice, Mercy, Intelligence, Wisdom, and the Crown. This ladder forms the exception to the usual number of seven steps or rounds;

LADDER, MITHRAITIC

In the Persian Mysteries of Mithras, there is a ladder of seven rounds, the passage through them being symbolical of the soul's approach to perfection. These rounds are called gates, and in allusion to them, the candidate is made to pass through seven dark and winding caverns, which process is called the ascent of the ladder of perfection. Each of these caverns is representative of a world, or a state of existence, through which the soul must pass in its progress from the first world to the last, the World of Truth. The seven steps are further symbolized by the seven planets and the seven metals. Thus, beginning at the bottom, we have Saturn represented by lead, Venus by copper, Jupiter by tin, Mercury by qiucksilver, Mars by iron, the Moon by silver, and the Sun by gold; the whole being a symbol of the sidereal progress of the sun through the universe.

LADDER OF IZADOSH

This ladder, belonging to the advanced Degrees of Freemasonry, consists of the seven following steps, beginning at the bottom: Justice, Equity, Kindliness, Good Faith, Labor, Patience, and Intelligence or Wisdom. Its supports are love of God and love of our neighbor, and their totality constitute a symbolism of the devoir or duty of Knighthood and Freemasonry, the fulfillment of which is necessary to make a Perfect Knight and Perfect Freemason.

LADDER, ROSICRUCIAN

Among the symbols of the Rosicrucians is a ladder of seven steps standing on a globe of the earth, with an open Bible, Square and Compass resting on top. Between each of the steps is one of the following letters, beginning from the bottom: I. N. R. I. F. S. C., being the initials of Iesus, Nazarenus, Rex, Iudaeorum, Fides, Spes, Caritas. These words suggesting Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews, Faith, Hope, Charity. But a more recondite or hidden meaning is sometimes given to the first four letters (INRI - All of Nature is Renewed by Fire).

LADDER, SCANDINAVIAN

Doctor Oliver refers the symbolic ladder used in the Gothic Mysteries to the Yggrasil, or sacred ashtree. It retains the idea of an ascent from a lower to a higher sphere, which was common to all the mystical ladder systems. At its root lies the dragon of death; at its top are the eagle and hawk, the symbols of life.

LADDER, THEOLOGICAL

The symbolic ladder of the Masonic Mysteries refers to the ladder seen by Jacob in his vision, and consists, like all symbolical ladders, of seven rounds, alluding to the four cardinal and the three theological virtues: Temperance, Fortitude, Prudence, Justice, Faith, Hope, and Charity

LADDER, JACOB'S

While sleeping one night on the bare earth and a stone for his pillow, Jacob beheld the vision of a ladder, whose foot rested on the earth and whose top reached to heaven. Angels were continually ascending and descending upon it, and promised him the blessing of a numerous and happy posterity. This ladder, so remarkable in the history of the Jewish people, finds its analogue in all the ancient initiations. It is certain that the ladder as a symbol of moral and intellectual progress existed almost universally in antiquity, presenting itself either as a succession of steps, of gates, of Degrees, or in some other modified form. The number of the steps varied; although the favorite one appears to have been seven, in reference, apparently, to the mystical character almost everywhere given to that number. - An Encyclopedia of Freemasonary and its Kindred Sciences by Albert C. Mackey MD