#it's just the idea that he has no compassion at all that bothers me becaUSE THERE'S CLEAR EVIDENCE HE DOES..

[onestepfcrward]

i saw a take on shadow’s character by a fandom blog that, while it wasn’t necessarily wrong, still really irked me because i dislike the idea that shadow is just an apathetic asshole who does not care for the betterment of humanity, a lot. i feel like that’s really glossing over who he is as a character and what his character arc sa2-06 established for him, and over all just. is putting him into one bland, boring 2dimensional box where he’s just an edgy asshole who hates people and thats it.

don’t get me wrong, i totally agree that he has a disdain for humanity especially considering literally everything humanity has put him through emotionally, physically, and mentally, and will CONTINUE to put him through well into the future. he really has no reason in particular to care about humans other than the fact that his best friend was a human and that he was created by humans. that’s it. and one of those facts is reason enough for him to grow resentful on the notion that humanity loves to play god and mess with forces beyond their comprehension (and like, shadow’s life sucks. should he really be thankful for humanity giving life to him for that??)

but! at the same time, i think that he can hold disdain for humanity / resent them for what they did while still being able to acknowledge his purpose and what he’s meant to do in life. i think shadow can still be curious about humanity and still be curious about people while having an overall apprehension towards those in power. because he does! because he’s mature and wise enough to recognize that, while the main portion of humanity sucks - especially the ones making all the rules that govern, there are still good people out there who want to help one another and make the world a better place. people like maria, who share the same hopes and dreams as her. people like amy and like sonic, hell even rouge is a good person deep down. like, to say that shadow flat out hates humanity would be hypocritical of one of his defining character aspects which IS the relationships he’s formed with people. (i include sonic/amy/rouge under the humanity bracket because they have human level intelligence / sentience and it feels weird excluding them even if they’re technically mobian)

and like, it’s fine to have preferences for how you wish to see shadow portrayed. me personally, i LIKE seeing shadow have a softer, compassionate side. even if it represents itself in a weird, estranged and subdued sort of way given just who he is as a person and how he expresses himself, clearly he has SOME compassion for humanity. otherwise, would he be going through all of this bs to actualize his promise to maria? would he have just left rouge to die all those times he’s saved her? would he of become enraged by the idea that some unknown force harmed his teammate omega? 

i think, personally, shadow can get pretty wrapped up in his resentment towards humanity. he still has a lot of strife to overcome and may never fully let it go. but i think it’s that mentality that contrasts so nicely with when he IS faced with people who don’t represent what he’s had to deal with over and over in his life. people like maria who appear to remind him that, while it’s true that people can be very selfish and fight over frivolous things, most people are good and want to lead happy lives. it’s those moments like his confrontation with amy at the end of sa2 that get in touch WITH his compassion that’s become buried over time, and draw out that softer, more human side to shadow. and to ignore that aspect of his character, well, he may as well of just let the planet be destroyed by the space colony all that time ago then.

#i am some of me. — ✦ ooc. #one track mind‚ one track heart. — ✦ ramble / study. #literally could ramble forever about how he's not just an apathetic asshole who doesnt care about anyone #and disclaimer i think you can like. interpret shadow however. because he's a VERY complex character #so it's absolutely awesome seeing all the different takes #it's just the idea that he has no compassion at all that bothers me becaUSE THERE'S CLEAR EVIDENCE HE DOES.. #you just have to have the right circumstances to bring it out #okay #rant over

[headspace-hotel]

okay but like this is what deeply bothers me about the whole "tiktok is making people think every negative experience is a trauma!" thing

Trauma is common. Like really common. How do we accept statistics like "1 in 4 women has been sexually assaulted" or "1 in 3 people grew up in a home with domestic violence" or whatever number of people will fight cancer or be in a car crash or an abusive relationship, and at the same time doubt any suggestion that a lot of people may actually be traumatized?

It's in our cultural definition of trauma—that trauma is some extreme event outside "normal" life, and that the people that experience it are a sequestered group that is well outside the "average" person.

but like, even strictly Criterion A PTSD type "traumatic" events are...not rare. at all. You can be a hardass about it and say that you have to be raped or threatened with death or violence to have trauma, and that's still a lot of people that have experienced that. People around you. People that pass by you every day. People that appear and seem "normal" to you.

if you accept the idea that belonging to certain marginalized groups can have some traumatizing elements to it, "most people are traumatized in some way" is just the most blandly obvious statement ever.

but even if you're for some reason squicky about "watering down" the definition of trauma (lol), we can at least agree that most people are hurt, right? Deeply hurt. Most people have been mangled by their experiences in one way or another. People's behavior is guided by the fact that they are hurt.

One of my dad's sayings, which is earnest and not at all shameful or demeaning, is that People Are Broken. And in church settings (because he was a pastor and is still very devout) his measure of the quality of that church setting was always their ability to come to terms with the fact that People Are Broken, not just people Out There or hypothetical people but us, the people around us, the people we live alongside and befriend and love. And if a church thought of Broken People as an external category of people to be "reached," instead of a near-universal experience of being human in a cruel society, well that church was likely to be, ultimately, toxic. And hardly any church passes that test, because our brokenness is hard to talk about.

We can't admit that most people are traumatized because it means that the call is coming from inside the house, that the menace is contained within our society instead of being a freak accident/act of god/attack by a lone wolf outside of the normal confines of our world.

But this is the truth. That our world, the nice, "normal" world, the everyday world, hurts people. We are not gentle enough for other humans, our society is not kind enough for humans to thrive.

We have to try to be less cruel. We have to understand that almost everyone has endured something unspeakable and has not fully healed. This is why I don't care about watering down the definition of trauma. We have not even begun to fully define the wound. There is no virtue in conserving recognition for the most obvious and extreme human pain. Why would we need less compassion?

#trauma #rape mention #random

[transrevolutions]

While overall I felt like the tbosas movie was well done, there's one part that really bothered me. When Sejanus gets involved with the rebels in the book, he's fully on board, stealing them ammo and weapons from the base, and planning to hold guards at gunpoint to free the prisoners. In the movie, however, he just wants to run away and then is surprised and upset by the fact that the rebels were planning an act of violence.

This doesn't seem like a major change, but from a political standpoint (as tbosas is a very political book), it's a big one and one I very much do not like.

In the text, Sejanus plays the role of the moral compass. Whereas both Coriolanus and Lucy Gray having complex and subjective motivations, Sejanus is always driven by wanting to do the right thing, even if it costs him. He acts as a baseline, keeping the readers from getting lost in endless loops of justification for atrocities just because Coriolanus's internal narration is rhetorically persuasive.

So when Sejanus (who up until this point has been relatively pacifist) joins up with the rebels in the book and agrees to participate in an act of revolutionary violence, the text is pointing out that that act of rebellion is morally permissible. That even violence against the oppressor class can be an altruistic action. Sejanus planning to fight the guards with the rebels is not a sign of his corruption, it's a sign of the fact that his society has become so corrupt that not doing it would be morally worse than doing it. After all, someone's going to die either way, so why not have it be the oppressors?

If movie!Sejanus is still occupying the role of the moral compass (which he seems to be), then his dismay at the possibility of the rebels using violence acts as a narrative condemnation of the violence, when the opposite is true in the book. The movie tries to make a distinction between the "good" dissenters (pacifist, nonviolent, morally superior) and the "bad" dissenters (violent radicals/terrorists). In the current political climate, this idea and narrative is extremely unsettling. And I'm disappointed they did this, but not surprised. Like the other Hunger Games movies, it was produced by a large media company, and they can't follow the satire of the book too closely lest people realize the fundamental irony of it. People in positions of power do not want to tell a story where violent activism is portrayed as moral--at least when it's against a society that obviously mirrors our own. (The brutalist architecture style is another complaint that I have, but that can be discussed in another post.)

Changing that seemingly small detail about Sejanus's involvement with the rebels doesn't do much to change the continuity of the storyline, but it does a lot to change the underlying message of his character and the story. This was almost certainly intentional, because the same sort of thing was done in the original trilogy movies as well. Companies are scared of subversive media because it makes them look like the 'bad guys' too, so they wrap rebellion in a lens of fantasy and moderatism.

#sejanus plinth #politics #tbosas #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #analysis #thg #pigeon.txt #I have a LOT of thoughts about this #but this post is already long as hell #anyways. violent revolution is morally justified. #we have nothing to lose but our chains

[sanakiras]

LIAR, LIAR! [TEASER]

PAIRING — kim mingyu x reader

WORD COUNT — 1.4k

RELEASE DATE — TBA, will probably take a while!

SYNOPSIS — in a dramatic turn of events, a rich businessman is found dead in his lavish estate, and the authorities believe it was no accident. as the detectives dig deeper, they ultimately end up with two key suspects: you, the businessman’s very own daughter, and your sworn enemy, kim mingyu. as the time progresses, tensions rise and secrets spill — and the truth has the power to either bring you closer together or tear you apart.

TAGS — murder mystery, rich rivals to partners in crime to lovers, whole lotta plot, dark comedy if u ask me, explicit sexual content, somewhat graphic depictions of death, everyone and everything is dysfunctional™, mentions of suicide, moral compass is nowhere to be found, angst

♪ aquartos - crystal city,, verydeadly - wolves (kanye west cover),, blue foundation - eyes on fire (4 ave version),, low - dancing and blood,, vessel - red sex

NOTE — one of my favorite episodes of going seventeen remains bad clue 2020, i loved mingyu’s role in it and i could totally see him portraying darker/morally grey characters and rock tf out of it so. i wrote this solely based on that idea. enjoy :D

i. TWO WEEKS SINCE THE MURDER

the interrogation room is unnecessarily bright, the noise of the water dispenser in the corner and the flickering led light above you running through your ears. the chair you’re seated on is uncomfortable, though it’s nothing compared to the tension you feel as the man in front of you treats you like you’re guilty of something.

“on september 2nd, sometime around six o’clock, your father reportedly got unwell, so he left his office early, choosing to do the rest of his paperwork at home. according to the information we got from the gps tracker in his car, he went straight home, took no detours. he arrived at your family estate thirty minutes later. then at eight o’clock, the police received a call from you, saying your father’s hung himself.”

you stare at the the inspector whose name you did not bother remembering before waving with your hand. “i’m aware. i’ve heard the recap of events many times at this point. this isn’t the first time i’m being interrogated, surprisingly enough.”

with a puzzled look, he raises his brow at you. “you don’t think you should be a suspect?”

“no, i don’t.”

“at the time of the incident, you were home, as well as two members of the staff. since the staff were on their dinner break and you were apparently in your room, it’s hard to say what happened, since there were no witnesses.”

“do you mind me asking why you think it’s murder and not just a suicide?”

he’s intrigued by the way you discuss the topic so casually. “your father was an important man. wouldn’t you want to know who killed him if that is the case?”

“sure. i’d thank them.” you smile at him, the hatred for your father shining through. “believe me, inspector — my father was a miserable man who surrounded himself with other miserable people. i wasn’t there by choice.”

“did he treat you badly, then?” he continues, trying to pry any information out of you.

you can only sigh. “i was his daughter by blood only. that’s all.”

with your demeanor softening into something sadder, the inspector’s tone changes into something different. “aside from you, and the staff, of course, we do have another suspect who we think could have something to do with your father’s death.”

that sparks your interest. “who?”

the inspector grabs his small pile of documents to pull a printed photo out of it, putting it before you. you visibly frown, because the person on the photo is someone you’re unfortunately awfully familiar with.

“kim mingyu is a suspect? seriously?” you ask, completely in shock. ironically, he’s the last person you’d suspect in a scenario like the one you currently find yourself in.

“what can you tell me about him?”

“he’s a year younger than me. we went to the same high school, same university, have some of the same friends. though all of that is relatively common in our social circle.”

“anything else?”

keeping the insults to yourself for now, you press your lips together. “our parents are good friends. well, were, now that my father’s gone. mingyu and i hate eachother to the bone, though.”

“any particular reason why?”

“i’m not sure where it started… there’s just something off about him. it’s always been there. he’s—beyond arrogant. always showing off his looks, his wealth, his charm, his intelligence. everything. he insults me, i insult him. we simply don’t get along, never have. nothing you haven’t seen before, i’m sure.”

the inspector raises his brow. “i think you may have left something out.”

“such as?”

his hand moves into the blue folder sitting on the table, taking another photo out of it, holding it up before you. “your father was often spotted with him. at events, business meetings — you name it. matter of fact, your father seemed to be accompanied by kim mingyu more than anyone else. which is interesting, considering you are his only child.”

your gaze turns sour, voice softer yet more hateful than before. “don’t tell me this is the reason i’m a suspect.”

“let’s just say it doesn’t make you look good.”

“you really believe i murdered my own father in cold blood because he cared more about kim mingyu than he ever did about me? that’s pathetic and ridiculous.”

“you wouldn’t be the first. it’s a plausible story.”

scoffing at the accusation, you shake your head. “we’re done here. the moment you have an actual lead, i’ll talk, but not like this. i’m still here grieving and you’re accusing me of being the culprit.” you get up in anger, taking your bag with you before slamming the door shut, not bothering to listen to what the man is trying to tell you to make you stay.

this whole shit-train started two weeks ago. your father was found dead in your childhood home, hung by a rope around his neck. instead of calling it a death by suicide, the police apparently have enough reason to suspect it was a homicide.

you’ve been questioned several times in the past few weeks, but there’s been a gradual shift in the behavior of the inspector and his handimen — they’re treating you like a suspect now.

which you are, for whatever reason. they have yet to come up with any actual evidence.

your contact in the police force mentioned to you that you’re not just any suspect — you’re one of the two main suspects.

and that is unsettling, especially when you discovered who else is.

as you go down the hall, you suddenly lock eyes with kim mingyu himself, who’s leaning against the wall with his hands in the pockets of his trousers. a few strands of hair hover by his cheeks, framing his strong features.

“what the fuck are you doing here?” you ask in a rather hostile manner, the scowl on your face deepening.

his lips part before he starts explaining. “they wanted to talk to me. again.”

“haven’t you heard the rumors, gyu?” you mockingly use the nickname, taking a step closer to him, “they’re saying there’s a possibility you killed him.”

your arch-nemesis looks back at you with a furrowed brow. “that’s ridiculous.”

“is it? you were always with him… it’s perhaps the only thing that makes sense in all of this.”

he seems offended you’d even insinuate something like that. “it’s really the other way around, though. you’re the one who hated him. i had nothing against the man.”

it’s true that you and your father didn’t exactly get along, especially the past few years, to put it lightly. you always considered him to be greedy, cold and unforgiving, and you certainly didn’t cry the moment they told you he had passed away.

“no, we all know how much you liked him,” you hardly make an effort to hide your disdain, “but they must not believe that, considering you’re just as much of a suspect as i am.”

he clenches his jaw. “i’m not guilty.”

“neither am i.”

it’s quiet for a moment as you’re both unsure of what to say next, a rarity between you.

a few years ago, your father mentioned you and mingyu could make a good pair. you proceeded to laugh in his face.

mingyu is a constant reminder of what you could be, and that’s the last thing you need in your life.

“if i find out you’re somehow involved in this—”

instead of immediately refuting the statement, he narrows his eyes at you. “then what?”

you realize you need to be careful with your words here — you can’t throw around threats to kill people as the top suspect in a murder investigation. “i’ll make sure you pay for it. they might buy your little golden-boy act, but i sure as shit don’t. i never have.”

a smirk subtly tugs at his lips as he leans more down, eyes flicking lower before they meet yours again. “i’d be careful with my words if i were you,” he firmly tells you, his lashes fluttering, “there’s always someone watching.”

only now do you take notice of how close you’re standing to him, and you look behind you, seeing the inspector that just interrogated you observing you and mingyu from a distance.

so you push yourself away from him, giving him a last glare before walking away.

mingyu’s eyes remain on you until you move past the corner. he only moves from his spot once you’re gone from his field of view, greeting the inspector with a kind smile.

if you’d like to be tagged in this once it’s released, leave a comment! <3

® SANAKIRAS — do not repost, remake or copy my work in any way whatsoever. translations are not allowed.

#kim mingyu x reader #mingyu x reader #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #seventeen fanfic #seventeen smut #kim mingyu #svt smut #svt fanfic #svt imagines #svt angst #mingyu smut #mingyu angst #svt oneshot #svt ff #svt fic #svthub #seventeen oneshot #svt #seventeen

[sapphire-writes]

A Second Chance

pairing: Aemond x Reader request: Hello! Sorry to bother you but i have a little idea that came from all the reblogs you recently made! basically Aemond is away so Alicent requests that reader! Comes back after a long time to the red keep because she wants to see her boy happy 🥺 of course its just a simple start but would love to see nice Alicent helping his baby ~ anonymous

warnings: none! this has the tiniest amount of angst but mostly fluff word count: 1.4k note: loved this, loved writing emotional Aemond & your messages are NEVER ever a bother! 💚 masterlist

“I was ever so sorry to hear of the death of your lord husband, Lady (Y/N),” Alicent said, giving you a look full of a mother’s compassion, “and so unfortunate he should leave you so quickly after you wed.”

You take a sip from your cup. The Queen had invited you to the capital and you had been delighted to return. Ever since you arrived your eyes had been searching for Aemond.

You had both left on such harsh terms those several years ago when your betrothal had been announced. You had been missing him for years, feeling as though a very piece of your own heart had been missing. 

“Thank you, your grace,” you tell her, speaking softly.

Your lord husband had been a kind man. Married to you as an alliance for your families and that was all. He was nearly twice your age, but he had been sweet to you. 

“My son has missed your presence,” Alicent tells you. 

“I was hoping to see the prince,” you said, heart rate increasing. 

Alicent nods, looking off to the side. Your smile falters as the realization washes over you at her hesitant glance.

“Aemond does not know I am here,” you tell her. It is a statement, not a question. 

Alicent struggles to keep the smile on her face. She brought her hand to yours, squeezing it gently. 

“I thought perhaps we shall surprise him,” she says softly.

“I do not think he wishes to see me,” you tell her, and feel a slash of pain in your heart. The wound is still fresh, though the years had passed. 

“Tell them not to let me go,” you had begged him, chasing him down an empty corridor. 

The one-eyed prince had stopped his long strides turning to face you. 

“Tell them you wish to marry me,” you had begged.

Aemond had been silent for many moments. 

“I cannot tell them what is not true.”

You remembered it as though it had happened yesterday. The cold look in his eye, so unlike that of which he usually awarded you. None of the kindness you had grown to love. 

“He does,” Alicent insists, “he has been terribly lonely these past years. Growing more resentful each day. I worry about him.”

In truth, you had never stopped thinking of Aemond. He plagued your thoughts at every moment. 

You blink away the tears that gather in your eyes.

“He shall be returning soon,” Alicent tells you, “join us for supper tonight, please.”

Her thumb continues to stroke the back of your hand, a hopeful look is in her eyes. You nod in agreement. 

Aemond remembered watching you go, the way your eyes had filled with tears. The look of betrayal on your face. That most of all. That has haunted most of his days since your departure. 

In truth, he had wished to marry you. But duty is often in conflict with matters of the heart. And duty demanded he remained unwed. 

And though it pained him to do so, he had to let you go. 

Aemond walks quickly to his chambers, eager to bathe and dress before joining his mother for dinner. The days have been long, and there is no feeling like that of being home. 

He hisses as he lowers himself into the tub, the hot water nipping at his pale skin. Aemond wishes to be done quickly, he doesn’t like being alone with his thoughts. He finds himself constantly training, reading, researching, and doing anything to distract himself from the constant thoughts that plague him.

You. 

It has been years since he last saw you since you last spoke. He supposed you must have several children by now. This did not make him sad, he hoped you had children to brighten your life. 

Aemond readied himself before making his way to his mother’s chambers. It was to be a small affair for supper that evening, as Aegon was entertaining some guests from the west. 

“Aemond,” Alicent said, as he arrived. She embraced her son whom she had not seen in several months. 

“It is good to see you, mother,” he said.

“I have missed you,” she told him, “I have invited a guest for dinner..”

“A guest?” Aemond questions, as the door opens. 

He turns and his breath catches in his throat as he sees you in the doorway. Your eyes are wide as you take him in. Aemond looks good, taller perhaps if that is possible. Leaner, the entirety of him is ropey muscles. He is handsome as ever, eyepatch securely covering his ruined eye. Aemond’s lips part.

“Hello Aemond,” you say softly smiling. 

“Lady (Y/N) has agreed to join us for supper, isn’t that lovely?” Alicent says, placing a hand on her son’s arm. 

Aemond jerks his head in a nod causing Alicent to smile. 

“I shall be but a moment,” she says, starting toward the door. She stops to caress your cheek, before leaving the room, the door clicking shut behind her. 

You inhale a shaky breath. 

“Are you well?” you ask as Aemond continues to stare, a rather innocent expression on his normally harsh face. 

“What are you doing here?” he asks, his voice hoarse. You wet your lips wringing your hands together. 

“Your mother invited me to the capital,” you tell him, “I did not know you had no part in the invitation.”

“My mother?” Aemond said, shaking his head. Of course, his mother. The hopeless romantic who always wanted more for her children than the hand she had been dealt. You nod. 

“She wished to offer her condolences,” you continue, walking towards the fireplace. You reach for a grape that lays on a golden tray. Aemond’s brow furrows.

“Condolences?” he asks, watching you pop the grape into your mouth. You chuckle.

“Shall you speak in questions all evening, my prince?” you tease before answering his question.

“My late husband has passed,” you inform him. A moment of pause lingers between you. 

“I am sorry to hear that,” Aemond says, “I do hope your children are weathering alright?”

You meet his eye, a blush beginning to creep onto your cheeks. Aemond wishes he could place his hands upon your cheeks, to feel the burning that resides underneath your smooth flesh. 

“We were not blessed with children,” you tell him, “my lord husband was not well, for the majority of our marriage.”

“Did he treat you well?” Aemond asks, voice turning to a tone of concern.

“Oh yes,” you assure him, “yes, he was very kind to me. But-”

You find yourself struggling to speak, struggling to find the right words.

“He did not love me,” you decide, “he did not desire me. It was a quiet marriage.”

Aemond is watching you carefully. How foolish he had been to let you slip from his fingers. The gods are good, they must be repaying him for his suffering in some way by returning you to him. By offering him a second chance. 

“I would,” Aemond says softly.

He walks over to you until he stands directly before you. 

“I would love you, I would desire you,” he tells you, “I do, I always have.”

Your eyes fill with tears and you shake your head. 

“You don’t have to say that-”

“I do, and I was a fool,” he continues, taking your hands in his, “I was a fool to let you leave when I loved you. I have loved you and continue to love you.”

The tears are freely flowing down your cheeks, dripping past your chin and onto the stone floor.

“There has not been a day that goes by where I do not think of you,” he continues, “there is not a corner of this world I could fly to where I did not see your face. In every passerby, in the light of the moon. You are everywhere. You are all-consuming.”

“Aemond,” you beg, not sure exactly if you wish him to stop or keep speaking. 

“I love you,” he insists, fingers digging into your waist. 

You bring your hands to his chest, pulling him towards you and connecting your mouths. The kiss is desperate and passionate, making up for the lost time. Aemond can feel the coolness from your tears caressing his face, and you start to laugh against his mouth. 

He kisses you again and again, swallowing the happy laughter that pours from your sweet lips. 

Queen Alicent stands outside the room, back pressed against the wood of the door, listening to your whispers, and laughter. She places a hand against her heart and closes her eyes, happy that her son has found the love he so longed for. 

note: hope you enjoyed I love me a good love confession, especially from our fave one-eyed prince 🥹

#aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x y/n #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen one shot #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targrayen x y/n #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond fluff #aemond angst #aemond targaryen fluff #aemond stannies #aemond fanfiction #hotd aemond #hotd fanfic #hotd

[cuubism]

I see your "Dream yelling at Desire because 'how dare you make me have feelings for Hob!!'" and raise you "Dream yelling at Desire because 'how dare you make Hob have feelings for me!!'" because it's the only logical explanation for why Hob would claim to want someone like Dream

[ cat screaming crying . jpg ]

Dream storms into Desire’s realm, steps thudding on the uneven floor, rage propelling him forward. He cannot remember ever feeling such anger, such betrayal towards his sibling, not even when he had learned they were behind his imprisonment.

Desire’s games have always gone too far, but this is beyond trying to teach him a lesson, this is beyond what Dream can reconcile, this is simply cruelty.

“YOU,” he thunders, the air shaking around him as he stalks up to where Desire is lying casually on a chaise lounge as if they haven’t just ripped Dream’s one comfort in this life out from under him. “How dare you.”

“Brother, dear,” drawls Desire, popping a grape into their mouth with not a care in the world, “it is rude to simply fly in without even knocking on the door. You wouldn’t like it if I did it to you.”

Blind with fury, Dream grabs them by the throat and hauls them to their feet. Desire lets out a choked gasp, genuinely startled by his vitriol. Their pulse trips under Dream’s thumb.

Desire cannot be killed through something as simple as strangulation, but it truly is tempting to try. “What,” Dream snarls, grip tightening, “what have you done to Hob Gadling?”

Desire blinks at him, torn from their alarm by confusion. “Whomst? Listen, I know you know everybody’s name and their kinkiest fantasy but I honestly can’t be bothered with the details, you’re going to have to fill me in.”

The rage in Dream’s core only flares hotter. “Enough of this charade, you know exactly what you’ve done.”

“No, seriously, I have no idea what you’re—”

Dream whirls away, leaving his sibling staggering in the wake of his grasp. “Was it not enough?” he demands, staring sightlessly into the gleaming red curves of Desire’s realm. “Was the vortex not enough? Was a century of imprisonment not enough for you?” His voice cracks halfway through, and it’s mortifying. “Truly, your hatred of me is untempered by even the slightest compassion.”

Desire’s voice is quizzical when they next speak. “I am starting to wish I was behind whatever this is that seems to have pierced you straight through the heart. I’m afraid my own arrows have missed that organ thus far.”

“Hob Gadling,” Dream insists, but Desire’s seemingly-genuine confusion has him wavering. It’s not like them not to revel in their own victory, and oh, this has been a victory, Dream feels laid lower than even a century in a cage had managed. “You are manipulating him.”

“Once again, I don’t know who that is. But he’s clearly excellent ammunition so I’m certainly going to find out once you leave.”

Dream flexes his hands at his sides, summoning his control. If Desire truly was not behind this, then he’s already made a mistake in coming here. Best not to offer anything else.

Being in Desire’s realm makes this stoicism difficult. The very space brings emotions to the surface, drags feelings up from his stomach that he’s tried so very hard to tamp down. He tastes blood at the back of his throat, his stomach churns, his skin prickles with sweat.

Desire stalks up behind him, sensing all of this. “Now I am curious,” they murmur, dragging a finger up his shoulder, over the collar of his coat and along the back of his neck. “Now I must know what’s go you so riled up.”

“You think you have earned such things?” Dream says through gritted teeth. His heart is pounding hard and uneven such that it physically hurts in his chest, the weight of the Threshold bearing down.

“No need to earn, you can hide nothing from me here.” Desire circles around him to his front, dragging their finger along his collarbone until it lands right at the base of his throat. They look at him from under their lashes, all smug satisfaction. “You are all tangled up in the realm of Desire, aren’t you?”

Dream moves to storm off, but Desire blocks him, nails pressing into his skin.

“Nah-ah, no running away. Let your little sibling help you, hm? As you may know, I am rather wise in matters of the heart.”

The look on Desire’s face is craftiness, glee, not charity or wisdom.

“I neither need nor wish for your assistance,” says Dream, voice hard. “On this, or any other matter.”

“But there is a matter.” Desire leans in and speaks right in his ear. “I can smell the heartsickness on you, Dream.”

There is nothing Dream can say in response to this. Any denial would only be read as falsehood, for Desire does not lie – of late, Dream feels sick with wanting in Hob’s presence, hunger so sharp it turns over into nausea, much like the first time Hob had pushed him to eat after his captivity. How cruel, then, to have his pain eased, his desires sated by a reciprocation that cannot possibly be truly felt.

There is nothing to say, so Dream doesn’t speak. Silence, of course, is its own answer.

“You know, if there’s one thing I have always admired about you, big brother, it’s your willingness to destroy yourself for the sake of passion,” Desire continues. “You’d think that’d be my sort of thing. Who’ve you lost yourself on this time? Demigod? Demon? Dryad? Vampire?”

Dream glares at them, but does not speak.

Desire’s face absolutely lights up as they realize. “Oh. My. God. Is he human? Dreeaaammmmm, my my, maybe your little time out did change you, after all.”

Dream turns away, refusing to give them the satisfaction of confirming. Though he knows this reaction is also a confirmation.

Desire claps their hands. “Oh! I’m so proud of myself. Look at this! Look at the softness of your heart. Look how I can bruise it.”

Dream’s heart, indeed, gives a painful thump. “Should you dare to touch him, even the old laws will not protect you.”

Desire sighs, flopping back onto a couch, legs crossed, head propped in their hand. “Why bother? You’ll destroy it yourself, and that’ll be much more fun.”

I hate you, Dream thinks, like a petulant child. He hates, also, how any argument with Desire makes him feel that way, feelings crowding at the surface of his skin, throat tightening, mind spinning in a chaotic churn. His muscles clench so hard he thinks they might have snapped, were he human, then he forces himself back into a semblance of ease.

There is no extracting himself from this situation with any dignity.

“Interfere with my affairs again,” he warns darkly, “and I will destroy you.”

Then he storms out of the Threshold.

“Love you too!” Desire calls after him, a grin in their voice. “Good luck with your human!”

--

When he’d found Hob at the New Inn, thirty-three years after he’d meant to arrive, Dream had not known how he might be received. Friendship extended once may not be extended again after so brutal a rejection, and so prolonged an absence, no matter that the latter offense was not within his control.

Being met with a smile, then, and an easy acceptance of his apology, like Hob had already forgiven him long before Dream had stepped through the door, had been a revelation. Something had settled in him that he had not known was knocked askew. Could there, truly, be one thing in his life that was allowed to be easy? Where Dream’s missteps were not met with scorn or vitriol or world-shaking consequences, but with grace and the chance to try again?

It seemed improbable, but still Dream had grabbed for it with cold, shaking fingers. Had held that unlikely flame between his palms. Had watched as it grew, hotter and brighter with each smile Hob sent his way, with each gentle brush of fingers as he pressed cups of tea into Dream’s hands, with the hug Hob finally managed to wind him into, once Dream had told him of the true reason for his absence in 1989.

Hob’s grace, Hob’s generosity in inviting someone, something like him into his home, into his life… Dream did not quite know how to hold it, so unlikely it was. He tried, though, oh he tried. And he swore he would not mess it up, not like he had when Hob had first offered his friendship.

He has now, quite royally, messed it up.

He very much doubts Hob will be so generous this time.

He finds Hob where he left him, sitting on the couch in his flat, a book in his hand. He doesn’t seem to be concentrating on it; his thoughts feel scattered in ragged, disturbed daydreams.

He doesn’t even startle when Dream materializes next to him. Though he knows it can be startling to humans, Dream has not been able to break himself of just appearing where he needs to – traversing the long way from point to point is not how he works. But aside from the occasional, teasing, I have a door, you know, Hob never truly complains about these disturbances to his day.

Dream means to offer him an apology. To say, I should not have walked out when you said that you loved me. To say, I am supposed to be better, I am trying to be better.

Instead, just as Hob looks up, the words that trip out of Dream’s mouth, pushed by the flurry of Desire’s realm still pounding within him, are, “Did you speak truly, Hob Gadling?”

Which is a ridiculous question. Dream does not think he has ever heard Hob speak a lie. Still, Dream must have the answer.

Hob’s expression shifts through several incarnations, none of which Dream feels capable of reading. Finally, it settles on the same soft, exasperated understanding Dream remembers being presented with when he’d said, I know thirty years is truly quite late, at their reunion, before he’d told Hob why he was late.

Grace, then. He is to be offered grace, again.

His emotions are still so close to the surface that he has to physically swallow down what he feels about that.

“Of course, I did,” Hob says, and there’s a hint of nerves in it, but he pushes through, he always does. “I wouldn’t lie to you about that.”

His gaze is genuine, open, and no, Desire had not lied – Hob’s feelings are no manipulation of theirs. And while it is tempting to search for other answers, spells or illusions or any number of other causes, Dream knows, deep down, that he will come up empty.

Hob’s feelings are true, are his truth, confounding though that is.

Dream no longer feels capable of holding any of this in his hands.

Instead, he kisses him.

It’s like he is pulled forward by a force outside his own body. He goes to Hob like he had gone to the sugar in the tea Hob had made him, that night at the inn when Dream had first realized how long it had truly been since he’d eaten; he goes to him like he had gone back to the Dreaming after being freed, returning home breathless, lost, changed.

Hob catches him against his mouth, hands cradling Dream’s face. His grip is solid and warm, and he kisses Dream like he looks at him like he speaks to him, with a care Dream hardly knows how to accept. He leans into it anyway, he leans in.

“I wasn’t fishing for a kiss when I said that, you know,” Hob says when they part, still lingering close enough that Dream can feel his heat, his breath. “I meant it in more of— well, that way, for certain, but really, any way you wanted to take it.”

“Any way,” Dream repeats, not sure he comprehends Hob’s meaning.

“Yeah, you—” Hob cuts himself off, letting out a breath, thinking. His hands slide from Dream’s face down to his shoulders, and he holds him there. “I. You just. I want you to know that you’re loved. Not demanding anything of it. Just telling you. Take it however serves you best.”

Dream stares at him, his whole being tripped and restarted at a new rhythm, and Hob gives him a sad smile.

“It’s too big to hold,” he says, and taps his chest. “In here. And besides, I wanted you to have it.”

Dream had had it. Only he hadn’t quite known what he had. The sunshine of Hob’s smiles, sustaining him, a bridge between distant points of light.

Finally, he manages to say, “I felt it. You have been my succor. My… only.”

Hob has captured him more effectively than Burgess’s snare, but this capture is not a prison. It hurts, oh, it aches, but it never wounds.

Hob smiles at him again. There’s still something pained in the creases around his eyes. “I know.”

He’s still touching Dream. His hands run over him, up his neck, over his throat, along his collarbone, and—

catch, on the collar of his shirt, above his heart.

“What happened?”

His voice is tight, now, worried, and— yes. There are bruises on Dream’s chest, crawling up over his breastbone. He had felt them form, and hadn’t stopped them.

Hob’s expression darkens further the longer he looks; he drags the collar of Dream’s shirt down, trying to see how far the damage spreads. “You’ve got bruises all over you. Dream, what happened?”

What happened is Dream stood in the Threshold and his heart beat so hard it drummed right through to the surface of his skin. What happened is it hurt so badly his form shifted to give reason for the pain.

“Desire,” he says, and he does not mean his sibling.

Hob doesn’t seem to understand, but he smoothes a hand over Dream’s heart as if to wipe the bruises away. Dream could will his body to return to its original, unharmed state, but he does not. He lets the blood stay pooled beneath his skin.

Hob sighs, tugging Dream’s coat tighter around him, shielding him from further injury. “Come here, you. You strange creature.”

He pulls Dream in, though he does not have to pull hard. Dream tucks his face into Hob’s neck, reveling in the warm scent of him, woodsmoke from the fireplace down in the inn where they’ve now spent many a long evening, basking in the heat of the flames. Hob’s arms go around him.

Absolution. Dream does not think this is a gift that has ever been granted to him.

“I would also love you,” he says. “If you would accept it.”

“If I would accept it?” Hob repeats. “Darling, your love is a privilege.”

Dream’s heart, in all its bruises and blood, finds rhythm again, and he thinks, though he certainly doesn’t pull away from Hob to check, that his skin clears up partway, too.

#dream literally STOMPING into desire's house and screaming at them #desire being like why are you hitting yourself? while wacking him in the head #truly sibling behavior #dreamling #the sandman #dreamling fic #dream of the endless #hob gadling #desire of the endless #my writing #i made dream like. way too self aware in the first draft of this. then i had to go back and make him LESS self aware lmao #like first draft dream: hm i think perhaps i am doing this because of my past trauma 🤔 #me: babygirl u are not that self aware try again #as per usual. this started as a short little drabble. and got much longer. and much more serious XD

[clairewritesjjkxreader]

Sukuna’s Wife and Yuuji’s Onee-chan (Sukuna x Reincarnated!Y/N) au headcanons

Other snippets of this au

Yuuji’s Onee-chan Random HCs

You never worried about Yuuji’s social life, because he was like the sun, the type of guy to attract all sorts of people. He was kind and polite and defended others from injustice. However, you were never attached to any of the friends he hung out with from kindergarten to high school; not until you met Megumi and Nobara. 

You would get along with Megumi, who has a soft spot for older sister types because of his own sister. He respects your opinion a lot and you love how he protected Yuuji. 

Nobara took a liking to you instantly. Much like Megumi, she sees you as an older sister and often goes to you for advice or just to rant. She looks up to you as a role model, but secretly in your heart, you wanted to tell her that she shouldn’t emulate you, because while she and the others were selfless and would sacrifice their lives for the greater good, you were the opposite. You would sacrifice everybody else for your baby brother.

You owe a debt of gratitude to Satoru Gojo. He shielded Yuuji from harm and provided you two with a safe haven. That being said, you didn’t like him. You didn’t doubt his compassion, but he seemed duplicitous, not to mention it bothered you how a grown man insisted on treating minors as his friends.*

You despised Ryomen Sukuna. If not for him, Yuuji wouldn’t be on death row. He claims that he is your husband, but you don’t even know what he looks like–when you “saw” him, he overtook Yuuji and marred his skin with black tattoos,** a sickening grin in place of a sweet smile. You will never forget it. You will never forgive him.

…So you thought, but ever since Yuuji’s possession, you began having odd dreams of old Japan, filled with scenes in a manor so large and grand it reminded you of imperial palaces in period pieces. Sometimes you’d be outside. Bright red maple leaves fell like snow around you, the mild, woody scent of cypress was ever present. Sometimes you'd see a familiar childlike silhouette that morphed into a kitten.

Regardless of where you were, a faceless man was always there, towering above you.

With the reveal of sorcery and curses, you suspected that these dreams were not mere dreams…

[1] Canonically, we know that there is more to Gojo than this, and you have no idea about the despicable things I’d let him do to me–but I’m writing these based on what Yuuji’s protective big sister would think. Frankly, as someone with younger underage siblings, I would be worried too if their adult teacher spent their free time hanging out with them. 

[2] I believe that in-universe, the characters can’t tell when Sukuna is the one actively using the body of his host and that the shift in visuals is just for the benefit of the audience. However, Y/N here sees the changes: tattoos, four eyes, etc.

@shadowywizardarcade @hannya-exists @nineooooo @lilachaeyo @pumpkindudeishere @jessbeinme15 @fluffy-koalala @cringeycookies @frogzxch @isimpfordanielpark @marvelsgirl4ever @sanzusmom @sheccidoscar @marvelsgirl4ever

A/N: Sorry for the late update. Been busy. Decided to write this while waiting for my resin to refill.

#yandere #reincarnation au #obsessive ml #sukuna x y/n #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #married #obsessed #married au #husband #wife

[obae-me]

Omg Hi!!! It has been so long since I have seen you on my dash! How are you doing love? I hope you are doing super well ^.^ I recently saw your Mc with trauma post. I loved it so much, and it has also given me a lot to mull over the past few days lol.

Honestly I love the idea of a traumatized Mc and the brothers feeling like absolute shit for the way they treated them in the beginning... but yk another part of me wonders when I imagine my own traumas in that scenario... that for people (the bros- literal demons) who have faced so many things and traumas in their own lives, whether my feelings or pain is even comparable to that. Ik you can't compare things like that and the brothers would probably even be mad if I think of my feelings this way since it's the "Ohhhh someone always has it worse. It's not even that bad so just suck it up" self-deprecating part of me. Despite knowing ALL THAT I can't help but think that I am not traumatized enough to deserve empathy lmao (I realize how stupid it sounds saying it out loud).

So that is what REALLY got me thinking. What about an Mc that is genuinely terrified of scrutiny, being a nuisance and just basically inconveniencing anyone for things that are just basic needs. Idk if I am explaining it well enough oof and a mc like that (like me lmao) certainly won't bode well with Lucifer. Atleast not in the beginning. I could hate him (I could never but if I did) but still be terrified of disappointing him. This is what I mean when I say I love him but he reminds me too much of my father habits wise 🤢.

I am thinking a Mc who is afraid of asking even their basic needs at the beginning once Lucifer mumbled about them being too much trouble. Mc who feels so extremely guilty when the brothers get anything for them, cuz they feel like they have to work for it or they don't deserve it. Mc whose blood freezes over when they break something and try to replace it as quick as possible so no one blames them. Mc who never expresses their concerns so as to not add to the brothers' already full plates or worry them. It hurts to bottle it all up but seeing the brothers' concerned faces with so much PITY is a thousand times worse. Mc who never complains and adjusts to even unfair situations so as to not be a bother. Mc who just takes, takes and takes everything bad and doesn't say a word cuz they feel like they deserve it. Mc who tells little white lies to hide their flaws and be the perfect exchange student and avoid scoldings and criticisms ; only to stew in shame, disgust, self-loathing when someone eventually catches up on one of the lies (the person probably didn't even make a big deal of it/ was only mildly disappointed but Mc feels their heart breaking in two as they think they have broken their trust forever and would never be trusted again)

Gosh this got way longer than I was expecting >.< and a lot of signs like these aren't really obvious until you are close to that person. I think so many of us are so hard and rutheless to ourselves when sometimes the thing we need the most is a little compassion and understanding ;-;

Hi! I love seeing you in my inbox and thank you! I've been in recovery mode for the last few months but am finally coming back out of that cave and working on my hobbies again (seriously going too long without writing almost feels like going without food for me)! I hope you've been doing well too!

And oof, yes, I understand what you're saying completely. I'm like that too in a lot of ways, keeping certain details or complaints to myself because "Oh surely what I've been to is really nothing". And sometimes I let something slip and people get very concerned. Which is validating in a way, not that I need to be validated for it, everyone goes through their own pain and awful things SUCK no matter to what extent it is and I've had to learn that through my life.

(Wow that MC really is just me, huh? Calling me out are you? /j)

Honestly this type of MC is just canon to me. (I mean, the more pithy responses the MC has in original OM might just be due to writing but to me it just seems like the calm and general response of someone throwing out NPC answers as a survival tactic.)

They suck things up and soak up everything that's been said to them and work hard to remain a normal functioning being.

And of course Lucifer is an interesting character to think about with this MC because on one hand the human could absolutely despise him for the way he treats them. Or on the other hand (if you're like me I guess, which I realize is hella unhealthy, oops) the MC could look up to him and work extra hard to try to gain his validation, because getting praise from someone like that means you must not be a failure, right?

And just...the dynamic of that is so appealing to me, because Lucifer loves when people work hard and do what they're told, but then if he finally comes to the realization that they're burning out and actually almost putting themselves in more danger and harm because of HIM? And at the end of the day he's doing more damage than any of his chaotic brothers? (I like to have him spiral and be humbled just a bit)

Just all of the brothers doing some deep introspection once they come to care for MC and needing to sit down and realize that probably made their human feel so much worse and then spending the rest of eternity trying to fix that. And then the "I can fix him" mentality from MC turns into the "I can fix them" from every other character. A special Uno Reverse, if you will.

Oops, this turned into a fairly long ramble of my own...

Thanks for popping into my inbox with your thoughts! Traumatized MC deserves some extreme love

#not writing #asks

[camatchoum]

What about us...

Timothée Chalamet x reader

Part 3

Part 1 Part 2

Summary : You and Timothée are dating in secret. You both want to keep the privacy. But what will happen when his PR team has a new great idea?

Words : 6.4K

Disclaimer: Sorry if there are any faults, english isn't my first language. Absolutely no hate to Kylie or their couple. That's just for the story. Hope you enjoy this final part.

My masterlist

You spent a wonderful week with Timothée. There were no fake dates on the calendar. Of course, you couldn’t really go outside, not often at least or not without being disguised, but it was like before, so it didn’t bother you at all. You still went on walks, and you even went to the movies to see the new Hunger games. All you could say is that you weren’t sure if Snow was really that bad after all, but you are afraid it’s only because Tom Blyth is really cute. That didn’t make Timothée happy, so of course you liked to tease mister jealous about it.

You two were currently at the airport waiting for both Tom and Zendaya. Nobody recognised him. I mean, it’s not that hard to hide, and just in case you weren’t cuddling or anything. You did that when you were on the plane. It happened only one time when one person recognised him but everyone thought you were his secretary or someone “not important”.

“Y/N!!!!” You hear someone scream. And you recognised Zendaya and Tom both with caps and sunglasses who were running to you. You are nearly knocked over when she finally puts her arms around you.

“Oh my god, Z!!!” You laugh. You give her a big hug, then you do the same to Tom. “It’s a wonder how we manage to stay incognito with the two of you screaming like this” everybody shares a laugh before you and Timothée take your suitcases and follow Tom and Zendaya to Tom’s car. When you were about to go in, Timothée got a call from his manager, so you waited for him.

“F*ck ! Why right now?!” he swears quietly.

“What? What happened? “ You ask, and all three of you look up at him.

“Jack just told me that I have to go wait for Kylie’s private jet to land.” He looks directly at you, knowing you wouldn’t like that. But he doesn’t like this either. He wants to spend much more time with you.

“Okay you go do that.” You tell him with a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. He knows that, he can see it.

“I’m really sorry, mon cœur. I promise it will be over very soon and I’ll join you later so we can visit a little bit of the city.”

“Yeah okay” you mumble, causing him to sigh. He takes you in his arms, and you reciprocate the hug.

“I love you” he kisses your head.

“I love you too”

You don’t look at him when he takes his suitcase and goes back inside the airport, without his disguise this time. People have to see him with his girlfriend anyway. You don’t know if you are overreacting or not. It’s just that you were supposed to spend time with him in Brazil, a country where both of you never went. You know it’s not because last week nothing happened that this PR idea was over. But a part of you wanted to believe it anyway. Just two weeks right? You sigh loudly and then recompose yourself. Two weeks and your boyfriend is completely yours again, and the world will finally know.

You turn around and go inside Tom’s car, with him being in the driver’s seat and Z right next to him. You go on the back seat and buckle your belt. When you finally look up, you see the both of them looking at you with a look between concern and compassion.

“What?” you say. They look at each other before looking back at you.

“Are you okay?” Tom asks.

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Y/n...”

“He promised that he’ll be joining me later to visit the city, so that’s fine” you cut her off. Not wanting to talk about it. You have to see the positive.

You then look at the window, silently telling them you are done with this conversation. They look at each other again before Tom starts the car. Zendaya puts on some music. A good Rihanna blasts inside the car, and you get your smile on your face. You don’t want to be too moody and you want to have a good time with your friends. You don’t see them very often, after all.

The three of you first went to the hotel to get rid of all your stuff. You were supposed to take a quick nap after the early morning you just pulled off, but you were too excited to wait any longer. So you immediately changed into something a little more convenient for the weather and went out. You spend the entire afternoon just exploring the city. Of course, you had to try a snack or two, and it was so delicious. You even took a lot of pictures.

You didn’t want to, but you spent a lot of time checking your phone for Timothée to text you that he was coming, which never happened. It was dinner time when you said to Tom and Z that you were going back to the hotel. You wanted to go wait for Timothée so that you could eat together. And you knew that they wanted a little moment for themselves.

And now here you are, sitting on the double bed. Waiting for your boyfriend to come so you can both go out again.

And you wait, and wait, and wait again. When the clock hits 9pm, you decide to stop having hope. You change into your pyjamas and just scroll on your phone. You want to call Z to talk, but you don’t want to be a bother in their date.

It is 10 pm when the door of your hotel room opens. You told him that you would leave a key at the reception for him. You look up from your phone. Timothée closes the door, and when he finally turns around, you can see his guilty face. At least he knows he fuckep up.

“Hey...” He approaches you and sits on the bed right next to your laying form. He lifts his hand like he wants to touch you, but he drops it with a sigh.

“I know what you are going to say. Don’t worry about it.” You say with your eyes down.

“You and I both know it’s not okay”

“Yeah I know. And I’m glad you know too. You promised you will be there. I don’t even understand how it took you so long just to see her at her jet.”

“I really thought it would be just waiting for her and like carrying her luggage while people watched us.” He pauses for a moment. “But Jack had other plans for us. They wanted us to go around a few spots in the city. I suppose you saw my stories on Instagram.” You did. They were of a few places in the city, and in some of them, you could see Kylie’s silhouette. That definitely made the fans crazy. “Since tomorrow is the convention, they wanted us to take a lot of pictures to post later. I don’t even remember how many times I had to change, so people would think we are on vacation.” He looks at you for a reaction. You don’t say anything. He already knows what you are feeling. “I also had a little talk with Jack and Linda that tomorrow we are going official”

“How?”

“After the panel, they want me to like go off stage and hug her. And while doing so, she will say that she loves me and the mic will catch it so everybody can hear.”

“That will make them lose their minds.”

“Yeah pretty much.” He chuckles with a hint of sadness. “I’m sorry for everything. You know if I could I would have spent the day with you.”

“I know that. It’s just so frustrating. I don’t know if I can go on like this much longer.” You say while playing with his fingers.

“I told you that it’s all going to end soon. I don’t think there will be too much left after that. The Wonka premiere is in two weeks, and I think they planned for us just to post the pictures that we took together. And then I’ll delete them all, and people will think it’s over.”

“Okay. I hope you are right.”

And with that, he goes to change before joining you on the bed. He puts on The Lion King because he knows it’s a comfort movie for you. You were cuddling into him when you heard his soft snores. You aren’t feeling sleepy like him. You are too afraid for that. Afraid of what’s going to happen tomorrow. Afraid of seeing her telling him that she loves him and him saying it back. He wasn’t supposed to, but you couldn’t shake the thought out of your head. And what will people think anyway? What if they liked your boyfriend with her and two weeks later he showed up with you at the premiere? You will certainly get a lot of hate for “breaking them”. You finally drift into unconsciousness due to exhaustion.

The next morning, you woke up and got ready to go to the convention. Jack already gave the pass to Timothée yesterday. When he emerges from the bathroom, he sees you waiting for him at the door. He can see that you are lost in your head, probably thinking of what’s about to occur today. Of course, he understands why. He doesn’t need to be a genius to know that this whole situation is hurting you. It all will be worth it when you’ll be on his arm in two weeks.

“Hey Y/n?” You come out of your daydreaming session to see Timothée walking to you. “Do you think you could tell your head to stop saying bad things to you. It’s really pretty, but sometimes it needs to shut up.” He grins and opens his arms. You roll your eyes.

“Well it would stop if my curly head didn’t agree to this thing” you say with sarcasm. Of course you knew that he didn’t have a choice. He stings his tongue at you.

“What’s on your mind right now?”

“You know what. Remember the rule?”

“Yep no kissing on the lips. I can assure you I want yours and only yours” he says and kisses you. “I. Only. Want. Those. Sweet. Puffy. Lips” he says with a kiss between each word.

“Okay okay stop it now.” You giggle. “Come on, I want to see what outfit they prepared for you.”

And you both go downstairs to catch up with your best friends before you go into the cars. Zendaya and Timothée in one and Tom and you in the other one. There will be fans waiting for their entry, and while you couldn’t be seen for obvious reasons, Tom doesn’t like unnecessary attention, so he will stay hidden with you.

When you arrive, you go with Tom to do a little walk before the panel. See the place while Z and Timothée are in the dressing rooms with Florence and Austin. And you suppose Kylie is there too. When it was time for you to go back to the panel, you both took your seats. It wasn’t too far but not in the middle either.

Music begins to be heard, and the people start to scream like crazy. You are really wondering if your ears won’t try to fund a way to fall off your body to survive.

And soon enough, the panel begins with DenisVilleneuve join soon enough by Austin, Florence, and Zendaya. She wears a white dress that makes her look divine. Well, you think that’s a good way to describe her since that’s the word that felt from Tom’s lips when he saw her. Of course, you agree with him. You tease him about it, but shut your mouth pretty fast when Timothée walks on stage.

“Woaw” you whisper.

“Now I think we can both agree that I’m not the only whipped person here.” Tom grins.

“Oh shut up” you both laugh.

You listen to everybody on stage talk about the movie and its production, the process of everything. You, of course, are listening very closely. You are obviously a fan of your boyfriend, but you also loved Dune part 1. It is really the kind of movie you love to watch. You are so excited when they let you watch the first 10 minutes of the movie. I'm so excited that Tom has to use all his strength, so you will stop gripping his arm like a maniac. When the clip is over and the questions from the fans begin to be asked, you remember what was about to happen. The panel will be over soon, and so will the world know about them. You start to feel nervous so you try to relax a little. Everything is going to be okay. Everything is going to go as planned.

The audience starts to clap loudly, and you realise the panel is ending. You can feel your heart beats loudly in your chest. You see Denis, Austin, Florence, and Z walk out before Timothée follows them. From here, you can see Kylie jumping into his arms. They are in the perfect place, hide enough so the fans think they aren’t supposed to see them, but not hide enough so not even one person can’t see them. They both hug pretty tightly, and then they loosen a little to look at each other.

“I love you” Kylie says. And like planned, the mic catches it and everybody starts to scream. They act like they are in shock, but when the screams got louder that’s your mouth that opens wide.

They are kissing. On the lips. They. Are. Kissing. On. The. Lips. The only rule was no kissing on the lips. And yet, right now, her lips are on his. You feel the tears in your eyes, and before you can see much longer, you run to the exit.

What you didn’t see is Timothée pushing her away immediately. He’s looking at her with disbelief. And when they go in the back, he takes Kylie’s hand to take her to his dressing room before shutting the door.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” he screams at her. He is just so angry. He knows you saw it, he knows it was like a sacred rule. And he’s so angry because when he looked for you he only found Tom looking in every directions to find you.

“What the fuck is wrong with YOU?! Why did you do that?! It was all planned remember” Kylie strikes back.

“This freaking kiss wasn’t!”

“Well I was feeling the moment, and I felt like we needed to kiss. What’s the big deal anyway?”

“The problem is that I have a girlfriend, and the only rule that we had was no kissing!” he said and just storms off. He has to talk to you right now. He can’t even imagine what’s going on inside your head. On his way out, he fell into Zendaya. Who seemed to be looking for him.

“Timothée Hal Chalamet, what did you do?!” She whispers angrily at him. “I just saw Tom's text saying that he can’t find Y/N”

“It wasn’t supposed to happen like this, I swear.” He says, completely desperate. “We were not supposed to kiss, I promised it to her, and now I just broke another one.”

“You better go fix this” it’s all Zendaya says. She don’t want to be mad at him. She knows how hard it’s for him because he can’t control anything while he’s the one that has to do all the reparations.

He just sighs and goes again to the exit. But unfortunately, now it’s both Jack and Linda who stop him.

“What?!” Timothée asks clearly annoyed.

“”First you calm down, and second, we are going to talk about the panel.” Jack says.

“I’m sorry. Can we talk about this later? I really have to do something very important.”

“We can talk about that later if you want.” Timothée feels relieved, but Jack had to open his mouth again. “But we have to talk about our little arrangement.”

“What about it?” Timothée asks. He knows he is talking about the ending part of the plan. He looks at Linda for an answer.

“We decided that we were not going to end anything before Wonka was out.” She tells him, and Timothée’s face becomes pale.

“What do you mean? We had an accord. Everything is ending before the Wonka premiere. I can’t do this anymore, guys.”

“We don’t understand why we couldn't go any longer. If your relationship with Kylie stops here, you could say goodbye to your career. People will definitely know it was just a PR thing, and we are all going to be affected really badly. You can say goodbye to any more roles because even if you are in a new movie, people won’t want to see a liar. Wonka will be a disaster and Dune 2, too.”

“I don’t care. It has to stop.”

“Let me be clear” Jack puts his hands on his shoulders. “You don’t have a choice here. It’s either you continue or you lose everything.” He says sternly.

Timothée shrugs his hands off of him and storms off. He feels so angry but also so desperate to find you. He met with Zendaya and Tom to go back to the hotel. It feels like the longest drive of his life. When they are there, he jumps out of the car and runs to your room.

He opens the door and when he enters the sight before him breaks his heart. You are fully crying on the bed. Your back facing the door. When you hear the door shuts, you turn around. He can see your puffy eyes. You stand up and whip your tears away before walking up to him.

“You promised.” You say sternly. “You promised you would take me from the airport. You promised that we would spend time together to visit the city. You promised you wouldn’t go that far with her.” You aren’t screaming at him. You are stating the facts. What you are saying is that you are hurt by all of this.

“I know, okay. I messed up a lot for the last few months.” He starts crying. “I know how much I’m hurting you, and I can’t do anything about it. I’m just so sorry. I prom- I swear the kiss wasn’t planned. I immediately pulled off of her and took her away. I screamed at her right away, and then I stormed off to get to you.” He sniffles. “It’s killing me that I have to do this, and now that this isn’t ending anymore like I thought it was I-“

“Wait what? You’re telling me that it’s not over?”

“I- I know I promised, and I was so sure it was the end. But Jack told me on my way out that there was no way that we would stop this. They said that if we stop now, then people will find out that it was pur bullshit and that my career will be over.”

“Okay...” You just say. You turn around and take your suitcase out.

“Wait, what are you doing?” He starts to freak out.

“I’m leaving okay.” You state while you begin to pack. He tries to take your arm away from your clothes, but you yank it back before turning to look at him. “I can’t do this anymore, Timmy. I won’t. It’s hurting me too much. And what about us?! We are not really together since this whole thing started. We are hurting too much to go on like this.”

“Don’t talk like that. I know we are hurting, but we can do this. We just go on a little longer, then when it’s over, we can be like before. Just the two of us. I will end everything. I will tell everyone the truth and everything will stop.”

“You can’t do that. You know how much I want this to be over.” You chuckle sadly. You take his hands in both of yours before looking into his eyes. “You know that if you tell the truth, then people will call you a liar. Your career will be over. And if we add me in the equation, everybody will think that you were cheating on Kylie. We would get so much hate. It’s the same outcome either way.”

“Please don’t do this” he pleas. “I can’t live without you.”

“I’m doing this for me, for you. We can’t go on like this. This is breaking us apart. I can’t watch you be with her and wait for you to be with me.”

“I promise I can change.”

“You and I both know that you can’t. I know you want to. I know that every promise that you didn’t keep wasn’t because you didn’t want to do so. But every time, this fake relationship is going to come our way.”

“I’m so in love with you Y/N Y/L/N” he sniffles. He knows he can’t do anything about it. You are putting a stop to this because it hurts the two of you too much.

“And I’m so in love with you too Timothée Chalamet. I will always love you. This isn’t me falling out of love with you. This is me choosing us.” You finish your suitcase before taking everything and going to the door. You turn one last time around to see Timothée watching you. His cheeks are so wet from all the tears that still fall from his red eyes.

“I’m going to miss you.” He says and takes you into his arms. You put your head on his chest, wanting to hear his heartbeat one last time. You don’t want to do this, but you have to.

“I’ll miss you too.” You stand back and finally open the door. You stop and look back at him when he begins to talk again.

“I love you”

“Really really really?” You smile. That is the saddest smile anyone has ever seen.

“Really really really.” He reciprocates it.

“I love you too.”

And with that, you walk out of the room, out of the hotel, and wait for a cab to take you to the airport.

“Y/N!!”, you turn around to see Z. Maybe if you tell the story, people would say that it is Timothée that should be here, running after you. But you are glad he is not. You need to do this for you, and for him, you couldn’t go on like this. And if it was him, you are not sure that your mind will stay put. “Why are you leaving? Are you okay?”

“I think it’s obvious I’m not.”

“What happened?”

“I just can’t do this anymore, Z. I thought that I could handle it but I realised that I can’t. I’m hurting too much.” You start to cry again, and she takes you in her arms. “I just love him so much, but this is not possible.”

“Oh sweetheart. You know I’m with you in this. But are you sure this is the right choice to make?” she looks into your eyes. She can see that you are sure of your decision, but she doesn’t want this to happen. She doesn’t want to see her two best friends drift apart. Of course, she understands you. She probably would have done the same. Maybe she wouldn’t have lasted as long as you. When you are going to answer back, you hear a car horn. You both turn to see a cab. Your cab.

“I have to do this, Z. I can’t watch the love of my life with a girl that’s not me anymore.” You say then take your suitcase and walk to the cab.

“Don’t be a stranger” she calls out.

“I promise” you scream back with a smile. A smile full of tears but still a smile.

When Zendaya goes up to your room, she sees Tom waiting at the door. He was supposed to talk to Timothée while she was downstairs with you.

“Nothing?”

“No, he doesn’t want to open the door. You?”

“She left. She took a taxi to the airport and she’s not coming back.” Zendaya decides to knock on the door. “Timothée? Please let us in. You need to talk about it.”

“I need to be alone so get the fuck away!” Timothée screams trough the door. The couple look at each other before deciding to leave him alone.

Timothée isn’t really happy that he screamed at them like this. But he really needs to be alone to process everything. And yes, he took the overpriced ice cream that was in the minibar.

You left. You really left. He just lost the most important thing in his life. He didn’t go after you because he knew you didn’t want him to. He understands your reasoning. He isn’t mad at you for not trying any longer. How could he even think about being mad at you? You are right. This situation can’t go on any longer. He knows that you were hurting too much by this. He thinks that the only thing he wishes is that you saw the way he was hurting, too. He knows it’s not the same, but being forced to do something you don’t want to is horrible. He didn’t want to do this. At first, he only did it to protect you and himself from all the hate. Now he knows that it took proportions that were too big because he knows that you didn’t give up just because it was a little too difficult.

Every time he was with his fake girlfriend, he felt bad. He felt trapped. He felt like a puppet on a string being manipulated by the PR teams and his manager and even by the public. He didn’t have a choice about what he had to do or say or even think. Nobody wants to be held against their will. He feels so trapped in all this bullshit that he doesn’t know how to get away from it.

Days begin to pass, Timothée is back in LA, and the Wonka premiere is tomorrow night. The only thing he knows for now is that he needs to get you back. He thinks you both needed a little time to calm down to ease your minds. But now it’s over, and he will make sure you are both together again. He can’t lose you because he needs you in his life. You bring him so much joy and peace. You bring him comfort every day. He can’t lose all of it. He won’t.

He knows that in order for the bullshit to stop, he needs to go against his manager and his PR team. He needs to tell the world the truth. But if he does so, he will probably lose everything. Not everything because you are his everything to him. But he can say goodbye to his career.

Just when he was about to ask himself if it was worth it, he shut himself up. Of course, it is worth it, your freaking dumbass. He would lose everything if it meant he could be with you forever. Okay, he needs to fix everything NOW.

With this new mindset Timothée jumps out of bed. He is so excited to get you back that his foot gets caught in his sheets, and he falls. He stood up immediately. He couldn’t care less about the pain. He needs to move and fast. The Wonka world premiere is tomorrow, and with the fact that he needs to fly to your home first, then he needs to think of the time it takes to fly to London. Not to mention that it’s already dark outside. He doesn’t stress. He will miss the premiere if he has to.

He takes his phone, unlocking it for the first time since he came back from Brazil. He didn’t want to tall to anyone. No, he didn’t post the pictures with Kylie. Yes, his manager wasn’t happy. He will be even angrier tomorrow anyway. He only checked his phone to see if you sent him anything. You sent nothing, and that’s okay.

He is out of the house in one hour. The time he took to clean himself up, bought his ticket and made his suitcase. While he is waiting for the boarding to begin, he calls Jack.

“Mr Timothée Chalamet. I hope you have a good excuse for what you did. What you didn’t do, actually.” Jack answers immediately, clearly angry at the actor.

“I have a really good one, actually.” Timothée answers with a smile a little too big.

“Well my ears are wide open.” Jack says, annoyed.

“I’m just not doing your fake relationship anymore. It’s over Jack. Tomorrow night, I will be at the premier without Kylie, and that’s final.”

“Absolutely not. You are going with Kylie, and you will play loverboy until I decide it’s over. You don’t have a choice.”

“Actually, I have a choice, and I choose to stop.”

“That’s it I’m not working with you anymore, you fucking-“

“Yeah great bye.” Timothée hangs up the phone. He doesn’t need to hear Jack’s annoying voice anymore. Nobody does anyway.

He texts Kylie’s team to tell them that it’s not necessary to come tomorrow. His flight is ready to start the boarding, but he quickly taps something on his phone before putting it in his bag and walking to his flight. Full with confidence.

T- I’m getting her back.

Z- Took you long enough dumbass. Now go get your girl.

Now that he is standing in front of your door, he wonders if he shouldn’t have prepared a little speech. His confidence is long gone by now. He don’t know what to do. Does he knock on the door? Well it’s a stupid question because he will have to do it. Otherwise, you won’t answer. But what if you aren’t answering? Maybe you’ll see his face then decide not to open the door. Maybe you’ll not even hear that he is there. Well, you are a light sleeper, so maybe you will wake up. Are you even asleep right now? Maybe he should go and come back later. Yeah, that’s actually a pretty good id-

“Timothée?” he jumps at your voice. When he looks at the door, you are right in the doorway dressed in your pyjamas with a tired face and messy hair. At that moment he couldn’t find something more beautiful than you.

“Y-Y-Y/n. What’s up?” What’s up?! That’s what he has to say?! What is he doing?!

“Well I just woke up, and I saw you doing circles in front of my house.” He can’t say what you are feeling right now. You don’t seem angry, which is great, but you don’t seem happy either. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to talk with you. Can you let me in?” You ponder for a moment, but let him in anyway.

“Do you want a drink or something?” You ask when you come back from getting a hoodie. It is one of his. He wants to feel hope, but he also doesn’t want to jump to a conclusion.

“A coffee would be nice. I spent the whole night in the airport.”

“Yeah I’m sure it was pretty long. Don’t you have a premiere to intend tonight? Shouldn’t you be in London right now?”

“I couldn’t go without my girl.” This causes you to stop pouring him his coffee. “Y/n-“

“No. You know it’s impossible. We-we can’t.” Your hands start to tremble, so he takes them in his. At this, you look into his eyes. Those beautiful eyes that you missed so much.

“Y/n it's over. I ended it. I came here to take you with me to the premiere tonight. I want to spend this evening with you and make it unique. Because every moment I spend with you is unique.” He says in a sweet voice.

“How can I trust you? Is it really over?” Your eyes are glowing with your tears that are threatening to fall.

“Do you still love me?” He couldn’t help but hold his breath. He knows you said that you will always live him, and you left not too long ago even if it felt like eternity.

“Of course I do. How could I stop?” You smile, and he smiles back.

“I love you too. And that’s why you should trust me when I say to you that there isn’t a fake relationship in the way. And if you don’t trust me with this-“ He lets go of one of your hands to take his phone. He unlocks it, and you cloud see a picture where the two of you make silly faces. He goes into his call app. “-this is how my phone looks right now. And it won’t stop.”

You can see that he got a tone of phone calls. Some are from his manager, others are from his PR team and even some from Kylie’s. And when you see the messages that he got as well. All of them were in bold and with a lot of punctuation.

“I think that Jack isn’t really happy.” You say with a chuckle.

“You really think? Maybe that is his way of telling me thank you for all the great years.” He chuckles too, and this time you laugh. He can’t stop his smile from growing. “So what do you say? Do you want to come with me tonight?”

“Wait. Do you want me to accept a demand so unofficial like this?” You tease. He rolls his eyes before looking inside one of your cupboards and takes something out. He goes down on one knee.

“Miss Y/N Y/L/N, the queen in my world, would you do me the greatest honor to come with me tonight as my most beautiful date to the Wonka premiere in London?” He opens his hands and offers you one of your favourite chocolate.

“Well, you know I’m a very busy woman, but I think that I can clear my schedule for you.” You both laugh.

He stands back up and takes you into a bone crushing hug. You are both laughing before the tears take over. They are happy tears.

“I’m missed you so much. You don’t know how much I’m happy that I got you back.” He mumbles into your hair.

“I missed you too. So much. I’m so glad you came. Life is so hard without you.” You sniffles. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He slightly pulls away to look at your face then at your lips. And before you know it you are kissing soflty. A kiss full of love. But you pull away suddenly with a gasp. “What? What is it?”

“I don’t an outfit for tonight.” You begin to panic. “And how are we going to be here on time. London is too far you are going to be late for your own movie.”

“If we go in the next hour, we can be on time and all glamed up. I took care of that for you. You are going to make people so jealous, I promise.” He calms you down, and when he finishes his sentence, you run into your house, packing everything.

Timothée watches you doing so. He tries to help you, but you shut him up, so he just sits on the couch until you are ready to go. He can’t stop smiling. He can’t believe he got you back, and this time, he will make sure you don’t even think about leaving him.

Hours later, you are both all dressed up riding in the backseat of a black car that is taking you to the place of the premiere. The outfit Timothée wears is incredible. You are so in love with the necklace. Yours is pretty good, too. It is gorgeous actually and Wonka themed. It is perfect.

“Can you stop with your leg mon cœur? You are making the whole car shake.” Timothée says while putting his hand on your bouncing knee.

“Sorry.” You chuckle. “I’m so nervous. What if people’s don’t like me or throw things at me? And what about the questions?”

“Don’t worry about anything. If they don’t like you it’s their lost. I don’t care because I have you, and I want you here with me on my arm. And can tell you that no one will throw something at you. And if you don’t believe me, I promise I will stand in the way to protect you.”

“You’ll do that for me?” You both laugh before he looks into your eyes.

“I’ll do anything for you.” And you know that he means it.

When the car comes to a stop, your stress comes back up again. Timothée takes your hand and squeezes it, telling you that he was there for you. You nod to him, and he walks out of the car. You can hear the fans screaming like crazy. He goes on your side and opens your door for you before taking your hand in his. When you walk out, you are met with a lot of flashes and a lot of screams as well. People don’t know you, but seeing someone new at Timothée’s arm made them wild. And so the evening begins, you watch the love of your love doing what he loves. He signs pictures, posters, and some crazy things you don’t even understand why, but it makes you laugh. People are asking about you, and each time Timothée answers that you are his real girlfriend. He even goes all to the way, saying that the thing with Kylie was all fake. You were afraid of what people would think, but all the responses you got are pretty great. When you both start to stand on the carpet in front of all the photographs, you are blinded by the lights and slightly put your head on his shoulder. He chuckles slightly before looking at you, is eyes full of love.

“I love you.” He says.

“Really really really?” You ask with a big smile that is contagious.

“Really really really.”

And you knew from that moment that everything would be okay. You both have each other, and that’s all that matters.

---------------

The end of the series. I'm sorry it was so long, but I really wanted it to be in three parts so that the titles would match.

Hope you enjoyed it.

#timothée chalamet x reader #timothée chalamet #timothée chalamet fanfic #timothée chalamet imagine #timothée chalamet x y/n #timothée chalamet x you

[haydenn]

I don’t know if I totally buy any of the current theories out there, but there is so much fuckery happening in the last sequence with the Metatron. And the thing I keep coming back to is that there is something fucking huge that we as the viewers are missing.

Firstly, when the Metatron suggests that he and Aziraphale need to have “a bit of a chinwag” Aziraphale implies that they’ve already had this conversation. The line is “I don’t believe there’s anything left to be said. I’ve made my position quite clear.”

The only time we’ve seen these two characters speak to each other on screen is at the end of season one. And that conversation is definitely not what Aziraphale is referring to. Further more, Aziraphale’s eyes shift in Crowley’s direction multiple times while he says that line. Az and the Metatron had a conversation that we did not see and that conversation either featured Crowley in some significant way or Aziraphale has intentionally not mentioned it to Crowley. Possibly both.

Secondly, there’s the coffee. Which I won’t go in to too much. It’s been analyzed to death at this point, but it’s fucky nonetheless.

Thirdly, the way the Metatron looks at Crowley as he’s leaving the shop is nothing short of chilling. The ominous music is an obvious clue that something is up, but the expression on the Metatron’s face is so full of loathing. It’s not an “ew, demon, gross” expression that the other angels give him. It’s pure, vindictive hatred and it feels so personal.

Fourthly, there is no part of the Metatron and Aziraphales conversation that we see on screen that Aziraphale isn’t narrating back to Crowley. We as the viewers have no idea what they really talked about. We just have to take Aziraphale’s word for it. The only part we see is the Metatron telling Az to “go and tell your friend the good news” and there is so much fuckery in this scene too!

The Metatron initially says “You don’t have to answer immediately. Take all the time you need.” And then when Aziraphale says “I don’t know what to say,” the Metatron takes that for an agreement and tells Az to “go and tell your friend the good news.” But Az never says yes. We never see him actually agree to go back to Heaven. We only get that in following scene when Az is relating what was said to Crowley.

Fifthly, for all the “good news” that Az has to tell Crowley, when he crosses the street back to the bookshop, he doesn’t look excited. He looks nervous and kind of scared. We don’t see him start to look even remotely excited until right before he starts talking. Aziraphale constantly has his emotions written all over his face. It’s a very intentional acting choice from Michael Sheen. Which leads me to believe that if Aziraphale was meant to be genuinely excited in this scene, it would have be all over his face from the moment we saw him outside with the Metatron. But it’s not. He schools his features into excitement right before he starts talking to Crowley.

This, for me, makes all of the flustered excitement with which he tells Crowley about the Metatron’s offer feel really disingenuous. It feels forced and slightly out of character because we fucking saw Aziraphale be not at all excited before he walked into the bookshop.

And finally, when the Metatron comes into the bookshop after Crowley leaves he asks “how did he take it?” And that is such a weird thing to say if he sent Az in there to tell Crowley “good news.” That’s not something that needs to be asked about good news. Good news is almost universally well received. You only really need to ask how news was taken if the news in question was bad.

The Metatron’s tone and mannerisms are also really different here then they were in the scenes before. Before he was giving off kindly, if a little creepy, grandfather vibes. Once he comes back into the bookshop he seems to have dropped that act. He’s not surprised that Crowley said no. He’s not at all bothered by or has any compassion for Aziraphale’s obvious distress. And his tone much more brusque and businesslike. Almost like he’s saying “Got that messy business with the demon sorted, have we? Jolly good. Let’s get on.” It’s a very notable shift from how we’ve seen him behave up to this point and it feels a hell of a lot more like how we’ve seen the Metatron be in Heaven with Gabriel’s trial or when he spoke to Az in season 1.

As I said before, I don’t know if I’m 100% on board with any of the theories I’ve seen. But everything about this sequence is weird and contradictory. There’s something so damn fucky about it and all of the context clues point to there being some vitality important piece that we are missing. The whole sequence is just screaming “There’s something very very wrong here. Do not believe your eyes and ears. All is not as it seems.” And I am going to be losing my damn mind over it until season 3 comes out.

Why has Neil done this to us?

#good omens #ineffable husbands #ao3 fanfic #good omens season 2 #good omens thoughts #good omens theory #good omens 2 #crowly x aziraphale #aziraphale #crowley

[yanderes-galore]

If ya want I can add a scenario for this if you need any ideas! Yandaze prompts for Zenyatta: 42, 73, 52 - dredge anon >:)

Sure! I hope you like the plot I had in mind... he's a much calmer yandere than most.

Prompts found here

Yandere! Zenyatta Prompts 42, 73, 52

"Don't struggle. This is for the best."

"Holding you like this, having you with me, is pure bliss."

"My eyes will always be on you."

Pairing: Romantic/Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Overprotective behavior, Darling has some trauma/mental health issues implied/briefly mentioned, Dubious isolation, Manipulation, Dubious relationship/companionship.

Zenyatta had met you by what he feels is fate. You had went out searching for him and his teachings. When he met you... you had such am unhealthy mind.

You came to him in search of peace. Inner peace. Peace that Zenyatta was willing to offer in the form of talk and comfort.

Zenyatta became the Omnic monk you often talked to. It got to the point where you rarely left his side. You felt at home with him, often away from others to allow you to put together your thoughts.

Zenyatta felt attached to you because he began to form a connection with you. He saw how you were without him... lost. The longer he's around you the more he feels a certain love towards you.

To him, his adoration doesn't feel possessive or toxic in the slightest. You may not even sense anything like that either. Zenyatta is too... warm and welcoming to appear threatening to you.

For the most part... he's fine to be around.

You visit him and allow him to show you compassion. He often acts as a source of therapy for you. When you feel you need it... Zenyatta offers to hold you close while giving advice.

You're so blinded by his warmth and compassion you don't realize the more sinister side of things.

Zenyatta begins to feel you'll be happier with him. You come to him all the time to heal your inner pain and discord, yes? Then he feels you need him...

So why when he keeps you in an isolated home do you fight his comfort?

"Don't struggle. This is for the best."

Zenyatta's voice is calm and even. It's still soothing even when he tries to calm your panicked movements. You don't like the idea of being trapped.

"Why are you keeping me here?" You ask shakily. "What do you mean it's for the best!?"

"Here, I can properly heal you. I only wish to show you the love I hold for you. Didn't you express a wish to be away from the ones who wish to use you?" Zenyatta asks, holding out a cold metal hand to caress your face. "Please, sit and relax with me."

"I don't want to be locked away like this-" You worry aloud, looking at the monk sadly. Zenyatta appears displeased by your fear. He only wishes to help.

"I only wish to make this place your sanctuary." Zenyatta explains in a calm tone. You feel him slip an orb on you to keep you calm, the energies seeping into your mind. "My eyes will always be on you here, I promise I'll only heal you and never hurt you."

"... will you ever let me leave?" You ask quietly.

"Of course, when you are healed and able to be out on your own, I will let you leave." Zenyatta agrees, beckoning you closer. "For now, you have a lot to learn. Please, sit with me."

By sit with him you find Zenyatta pulling you onto his lap. The orb he's given you makes you feel warm inside... allowing you to relax in Zenyatta's grasp. Maybe he's right... all he wants it to heal you.

Maybe you should just trust him and rely on him... all until you're better... because he cares for you.

"Holding you like this, having you with me, is pure bliss." Zenyatta praises, holding you closer to him on his lap. Here... you really do feel at peace. You begin to wonder why you even bothered fighting him.

Or maybe that's just the orb?

Maybe you don't want to leave here anyways... it feels so safe and comfortable...

Which to Zenyatta is a good thing...

As he doesn't plan on letting you go despite his previous words.

#yandere overwatch #yandere zenyatta #yandere overwatch x reader #yandere zenyatta x reader

[yesimwriting]

Final Girl (Part 6)

A/n your comments, reblogs, and likes have helped me through this rough patch immensely :)) not to be pushy but,, comments really make my day :)

Series Summary: Y/n can’t believe that she has to leave the only home she’s ever known just because her mom’s latest boyfriend has a house in some town in California. Just as she’s starting to think that Woodsboro might not be that bad, something life altering happens after she agrees to sleep over at  Becker’s house. Now her name is practically synonymous with Ghostface’s. 

Chapter Summary: The aftermath of Ghostface’s phone call leaves Y/n a little reliant on some good friends. 

Final Girl Series Masterlist  (updated parts 1 - 9 and extras)

----

Billy’s breathing doesn’t reveal enough about what he’s feeling, but considering how silent the two of us have been, I have absolutely nothing else to go off of. 

I should leave him alone, I stomped on his foot, locked him outside while a murderer was watching us, threatened him with a knife, and accused him of being a murderer. It’s a miracle that he doesn’t hate me, I really shouldn’t push. 

If it wasn’t for Billy, I don’t think I would have gotten through the aftermath of the phone call. He convinced me that the police wouldn’t care that I had been drinking and when I couldn’t form the words, he gave them the information over the phone. He also helped me call my mom. 

When Dewey finally got to the house, he seemed a little more like an older brother asking me what happened with genuine care and compassion instead of some kind of officer desperate for answers. It was nice, the kind of energy and patience I needed. He even offered to take me to his house so I could sleep over with Tatum, but remembering how drunk she was at the party, I had a feeling she might not be coming home. I don’t know what she told her parents and I really don’t want to get her in trouble or interrupt her time with Stu (since he threw such a hissy fit this morning), so I insisted I could tough it out. Dewey didn’t seem convinced until Billy offered to stay the night, just so I wouldn’t be alone. 

The offer comforted me as much as it annoyed me. All I wanted was to prove that I didn’t need anyone, and now Billy’s weird group date night party thing has been cut short because of me. Technically, it’s not my fault. It’s not like I asked some murderer to call me, and he’s trying to be nice. Or at least, I think he is. And it’s not like he was the one complaining about me today, he even tried making me feel better by saying he’d take me to the bookstore tomorrow. 

Despite knowing all of this, my awkward and uncomfortable emotions that have been amplified by both panic and alcohol would have had me sending Billy home if I had the chance. But Billy’s offer was the only thing that seemed to get Dewey to relax and before he left he made both of us promise that we’d stay put and keep a phone on us in case of emergency. I couldn’t kick Billy out after that, not with the way Dewey physically eased. 

I guess it’s fair. Two is always better than one in these kinds of things, that’s why splitting up in a scary movie is always a bad idea. And if I had to make a cursory assumption about Billy’s physical appearance, he seems kind of strong, I guess. Not that I’ve ever paid attention to his physique or anything. And it’s not like he’s going fight off a killer, or whatever. But Dewey seemed to be comforted by the idea, and after tonight, if I have to choose between potentially bothering Billy and potentially bothering Stu by stealing Tate from him... 

And, if I’m being completely honest, the thought of being alone is absolutely nauseating. Before leaving, my mom always drills me on self defense. The whole ‘gun’s in the safe’ talk. Honestly, I’m pretty sure the fact that my mom’s been taking me to the shooting range since I was legally old enough to in Texas is the only reason she felt comfortable leaving me alone. But I’ve been drinking, and shooting at a target is nothing compared to shooting at a person. 

Also, unfortunately, I’ve come to realization that Billy’s presence is comforting. He lingers, sometimes at a distance, sometimes close. Like a cat.

“What are you thinking about?” It’s a fair question, I guess. We’ve both been through some stuff tonight, and we’re both tense, but it’s not like we can both sit at an awkward distance from each other and stare off into space until morning. 

Not trusting myself to not stare at him, I drop my gaze from the wall and onto my lap. My mind is racing a mile a minute, and a weird combination of dread, panic, and guilt have been drowning out all rational thoughts since Dewey left, but none of that feels like the right thing to say, so I go with the literal answer. “Nothing much, just that you’re kind of like the cat my mom never let me get.” 

He lets out a breath that could be annoyed or amused. I’m too much of a coward to look up at him and check. “You’re not that predictable.” 

His tone is so specific it takes a second to sink in. The words came out low and cautious, like he was admitting some kind of weakness he didn’t expect himself to express. But they also felt a little like shy praise.

 “Thanks, I guess, weirdo.” Finally looking up at him, I realize that he’s already looking at me. “Thought I was easy to read.” 

Billy tilts his head downwards, a strand of hair falling across his face. “You can’t hide what you’re feeling, but that doesn’t make me a mind reader.” 

Did Billy move closer to me at some point and I just didn’t notice? Or did...I somehow move? “That was a very polite way of telling me that I say weird things.” 

“No,” if I didn’t know better, I’d think he was smiling, “I meant it in a good way. It’s...refreshing.” Billy pauses, eyebrows just barely drawing together like he’s debating something, “You’re refreshing.” 

The admission comes out almost soft. I grin at his awkward wording. “Keeping you on your toes, just how I like it.” 

My bad joke lands even though Billy tries to hide his slight smile behind a controlled smirk. “One minute you’re accusing me of murder and the next you’re making jokes. I’m definitely on my toes.” 

I can’t tell if the switch is meant to be lighthearted, but I react regardless. Turning my head away, I clasp a hand over my mouth a little too dramatically. “I am so so sorry about that. Did I apologize for--” 

“Yes,” he cuts me off easily, “Relax, I was joking, and I get that you were scared and Stu told me that Noel said Casey’s name in front of you.” Billy hesitates, voice dropping slightly, “And I know that I said the wrong thing, but it was a lot to know that you thought I could do something like that to you.” 

Guilt feels like a spear cutting through me. All of my other feelings are small in comparison. One conversation with someone that only knows surface level Billy and that’s all it took for me to get that freaked out? And right after I started wondering if Stu could have done it just because he happened to date Casey at one point? 

Maybe it was the alcohol or the desperation to have some sense of closure. There’s a chance that I was just mad at them and my subconscious ran with that.

I let myself watch Billy openly. There’s a strange flicker of vulnerability adding a quality to his features that makes him feel less sharp. If I squint, it’s similar to the way he looked when he mentioned his mom earlier.

That strand of hair is still out of place, just barely brushing against the tip of his nose. I don’t know what gets my hand to move, but while I’m imagining how satisfying it’d be to have that strand pushed back into place, my arm extends. My movements are slow as I tuck his hair behind his ear. 

Billy lets me, only reacting to wrap long fingers around my wrist once I’ve accomplished my goal. There’s a lot I could say about my down spiral. I could tell him that he was my second suspect during a 10 minute trail down a dark rabbit hole. I could tell him that I was so out of it that I wanted to go to Casey’s house alone at night while drunk. 

Instead I say, “I know you wouldn’t hurt me.” It’s the truth, and somehow it feels like the only thing worth saying. 

He holds my gaze for a little too long. With no warning, Billy moves my arm, pressing a quick kiss to the inside of my wrist. 

Ignoring the strange warmth that follows the gesture, I turn my head. “I was so out of it and desperate for answers I wanted to go to Casey’s house. You were right to make me go home.” With a self deprecating laugh, I pull my hand back. “I just wish I could’ve proven that I could go one night without having some sort of crisis.”

“I like your crises,” Billy says after a beat, “They end up making me look like a good guy and it’s nice to be needed every once in awhile.” 

I look over at him, glaring as he grins. His sudden lightheartedness is shocking, and a tiny bit infuriating, but not unwelcome. I like the way he gets when it’s just us or us and Stu. 

The thought of Stu hits me a little too hard. It’d be nice to know that things with Stu are okay. Plus I...begrudgingly kind of, maybe miss him a tiny bit.

Billy being around is great, but after tonight, it’d feel settling to have our trio all together and safe. 

Rolling my eyes, I adjust my position on the couch. “One, I don’t think you need me to make you look like a good guy, and two, I’d keep you around even if I was completely stable.” 

“Really?” There’s a bit of smugness behind the humor in his voice. “Keep me around?” 

I halfheartedly glare at him, shoving his arm. “Maybe I like you.”

“Maybe?” 

“Don’t make it weird.” 

He grabs my hand, squeezing it slightly. “You okay?” 

Ugh. Of course he’d notice that tiny shift. Billy’s so perceptive it’d unnerve me if he was anyone else. “If I admit something you have to promise me that you won’t tell anyone.”

“I can keep a secret.” 

It’s not exactly the assurance I wanted, because him being able to and willing to keep a secret are separate things. Something tells me not much goes unshared between him and Stu. “Is it weird I kinda miss Stu?” The admission is embarrassing, but it’s probably the least awkward thing I’ve said all night. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m still mad at him and he was a total asshole, but he’s like my asshole, y’know?” 

The corner of Billy’s mouth turns upwards. There’s something about his expression that I don’t understand, but it’s not a bad thing. “I get it.” He shifts slightly without letting go of my hand. “You should call him tomorrow, he’d like it more than he’d admit. Not a lot of people go out of their way to reach out to him first.”  

I’m not wasted or naive enough to not notice how intentional Billy’s final comment feels. I can see why he’d want Stu and I to make up sooner rather than later. No one likes it when their friends are fighting. I have half a mind to call him out on it, but decide against it. Sure, it might have been a point he kept to himself under different circumstances, but that doesn’t mean it’s not true.

It’s hard to picture Stu, who’s always so outgoing and himself as lonely or unwanted. He’s always throwing parties and included in things. But parties don’t necessarily mean a lot of friends. Anyone would be willing to spend a Saturday night drinking free alcohol in a parentless house. And it’s possible to feel like you’re not important while surrounded by a large friend group. Plus his parents are always gone. Two nights without my mom and I’m losing it, I can’t imagine what coming home to an empty house every day must feel like.

But it’s no excuse. It’s not like I’ll be mad at him forever, but it’s deserved for now. “I will when I feel a little better.” 

Billy pauses, thinking through what I just said. “He’ll cool off. It’s more about this week than you.” Right. His sister, his parents.

I must be more tipsy than I realized because I blurt out a question that I’ve managed to keep to myself for awhile, “What is the whole thing with his sister?”

A switch immediately flips. He doesn’t really move or do anything, but there’s a shift behind his eyes. A change so slight and certain I wouldn’t have noticed if it had felt any less harsh. I don’t know why, but I know that that was the wrong thing to say. I’m pushing us towards what’s considered unsteady territory.

“I-I just mean that I know they don’t get along because of that time at his house with the picture, remember? I’m not saying it’s anything, just that I--I don’t have any siblings, so for all I know all siblings are like that.” I scratch the back of my wrist, vaguely reflecting on that cliche expression about cats. “I-I have a step-sister, technically, and I can barely stand her and I only see her on holidays, so actual siblings must be...”  

He turns his head enough to watch my expression. There’s something about the draw of Billy’s eyebrows that eases me. Something in my jumble of words has intrigued him. “You have a step-sister?” 

Ugh. I think I’d rather him be mad at me. Shrugging, I answer honestly, “My dad got married when I was nine. His wife had a daughter that was ten.” 

“You don’t like them.” 

It’s not a question, but I can feel that he’s expecting some kind of elaboration from me. “Not particularly.” It’s not what he wants, but I’m not exactly chatty when it comes to my step family. Maybe that’s how Stu and Billy feel about the parents they live with. The thought leaves me more sympathetic than before. “It killed my mom.” 

“I didn’t ask about your mom, I asked about you.” 

Wiping my palms on the couch, I stare off at nothing in particular. There’s no nice way to summarize the whole step family thing. The competition, the terrorizing while adults weren’t looking, the feeling of being replaced. The feeling of knowing the kind of dad my dad would have been to me if he had just had me a little later.  There’s an anger there that’s hard for me to acknowledge.

“The whole thing with my dad’s fucked up, and I can’t talk about it without sounding fucked up, too.” My voice is both too harsh and too honest and I regret it instantly. “Sorry, that was a lot.” 

Billy’s quiet for a long moment, expression unreadable. “Fucked up doesn’t bother me.” 

He sounds so genuine and patient that I believe him wholeheartedly. I don’t think that’s a good thing, but I tell him everything regardless. My dad, the on and off addiction, locking myself in the bathroom while he dealt with withdrawals, the way he completely changed for Charlotte and her mother, and watching my mom fall apart for someone that never loved her as much as she loved him. And, for the first time ever, I don’t keep it just factual. I tell him how it all made me feel, even though it’s not pretty.

Drinking and emotional conversations never go well together. By the time I’m done with the story, my eyes are watery. Maybe I could have blinked the tears away and played them off in front of someone else, but Billy notices everything. I take a settling breath before gently wiping my thumb across the corner of my eyes.

 “...Sorry, this is stupid. I’m too old to get this upset over my dad and his family.” I’m too self conscious to look at him, so I stare at my lap instead. “It’s extra stupid, because my mom’s so great, she’s more than enough, but it’s always been just us, and sometimes that gets lonely. Especially now that she has someone else and I--” 

It’s ridiculous. I’m not jealous of my mom having a boyfriend, but I do miss the way things were before Wells. She’s never had a super serious boyfriend before, and it’s starting to feel like she’s getting more family and I’m not.

Billy’s arm moves around my shoulder. I don’t think twice about the gesture until he pulls me into his side. His strength is surprising, but his touch isn’t harsh or overwhelming. It’s actually kind of nice. After a second, I relax into the contact.

“You don’t need him.” His body is as rigid and tense as his voice. The change in mood is fleeting. Billy recovers so quickly I nearly get whiplash as he teasingly taps his knee against mine, “You do have someone else.” 

He watches me for a long second, dark eyes taking in every detail of my expression. Up close like this, there’s something nearly soft about his features. I can make out the individual hairs of his lashes and a faint touch of barely-there freckles beneath his left eye. I don’t think I’ve ever noticed the slope of his lips before. 

I don’t know if he finds what he’s looking for in my expression because all at once, his intensity retreats with the drop of his head. “Two someones,” it’s practically shy, “Stu might be an asshole that doesn’t think before speaking, but the good thing about him is that he’s always there.” 

The sincerity and obvious fondness  that’s just so thinly veiled I know better than to call him out on it leaves me warm in a different way. It clutches at my chest. 

“Maybe for you,” I hum, hoping that my tone lightens the mood, “But I don’t think Stu’s in the mood to be there for me.” 

Letting out a slight sigh that I can’t interpret, Billy rests his head against the back of the couch. He keeps his head turned in my direction. We’re close enough that this new angle doesn’t create any distance, it just changes things a little. His breaths just barely reach my lower cheek. 

“He’s just moody because of his parents and sister. They’re both in town at the same time maybe twice a year.” Sympathy’s fangs graze against me, ready to sink in. “He cares about you, you know that.” When I don’t react immediately, Billy continues, “You’d have to considering the way he babies you.” 

Did he just? Shock and embarrassment twist oddly in my chest, making it impossible to take a full breath. My scoff comes out too small as a result. “He. Does. Not.” 

The corner of Billy’s mouth turns upwards. Great. I’ve given away that he’s struck a nerve. “You let him.” 

It’s a second bullet wound. “What? I--he doesn’t try--I wouldn’t if--you’re just making stuff up.” 

Billy takes my stuttering and inability to decide where to look like he has all the time in the world. “He peels your oranges, angel.” 

“I don’t ask him to.” My answer escapes me too quickly, too defensively. Stu does peel my oranges, but he only dos that so he can make a joke about not minding getting his hands dirty. He also does it so he can steal as many orange slices as he wants. “I--I don’t, he does it because he has a whole bit about getting his hands dirty. That’s it.”

“He waits with you by your locker at the end of the day.” 

That is not the big deal Billy is making it out to me. Stu stands next to me while I sort through my books before going home and sometimes he’ll hold things for me for a second to make things easier...but that’s not babying me. 

I open my mouth to tell Billy all of that. Before I can get the words out, a realization that I could have gone my entire life without strikes me in the chest. Hard and fast enough to nearly knock the breath out of my chest. 

Because, yes, Stu peeling oranges for me and hanging out by my locker while I go through my backpack doesn’t add up to him babying me. But that paired with Stu walking me to our shared first period after homeroom because one time a super rude football player ran into me; Stu always offering to wait up with me on the phone after a bad dream; Stu caring about my class schedule more than he cares about his.

“That’s just being a friend.” Maybe that defense could have worked if I had managed to say it normally, but I can feel my own awkwardness. There’s no way that Billy didn’t pick up on it.

He’s enjoying this too much. “I’ve been friends with him for years and he’s never peeled an orange for me. Maybe it’s because I’m not as pretty as you.” 

Stu’s reputation for flirting often outshines Billy’s. I think that’s something Billy relies on, it lets him get away with a little more. Rolling my eyes instinctually, I move to shove Billy’s shoulder. 

My fingers have just barely grazed against the fabric of his shirt before Billy’s hand wraps around my wrist. He holds me there for a second, staring at where our skin meets. In a move so quick I barely notice it, Billy pulls me closer by my arm. 

His grip tightens in a way that feels instinctual. It doesn’t hurt, but there’s something almost panicked about it. Billy’s jaw seems to lock but I can’t convince myself that it’s not just the lighting. “You should go to bed.” 

The words feel strained by something I don’t get. I’m too lost to his proximity to care. He’s so warm and there’s a sense of safety radiating off of him that I can’t think to question his intensity. It’s too relieving, too comforting. I want closer. 

That realization is worse than what we were joking about earlier. That thought scares the shit out of me. It’s a sign that I should jump back. Get away. But I--

“Don’t think I’ll be able to sleep.”

He blinks. My reaction seems to ease him enough to let his hand relax. His fingers ghost down my forearm. “Should still go to bed. You need rest.”

I nod, thinking that that’s my cue to scoot back, but Billy’s still holding onto my arm. This close, the bags under his eyes seem so much more prominent. A tiny pinch of guilt flares through me. He’s the one that could have been murdered because I’m slowly going insane. “So do you.”

“Then go to bed so I can.” The correlation only somewhat makes sense.

Right. He’s staying over. “You can stay in my room and I’ll sleep in my mom and Wells’s.”

It feels awkward, but there’s not much else I can do. Despite the decent size of the house, the only guest room on the property was turned into my room. The other rooms are mainly storage that Wells hasn’t gotten around to cleaning out. I guess his grandparents and great grandparents were hoarders. Maybe that’s just what happens in family homes, the stuff that’s saved to be passed down just gets shoved into back closets and unused rooms.

“You don’t want to have another sleepover?” His slight smile reveals that he does want to fluster me. That should make it less effective, but I still struggle to hold his gaze.

I try to glare, but I really doubt it comes off right. “Not sure us falling asleep in the same bed because we were too drunk to think ahead counts.”

Billy gilts his head forward. The shift is small but still oddly noticeable. I guess that’s how it is when you’re this close. Any movement closer or farther is noticeable because it feels more significant. “You’re saying you need to be drunk to get into bed with me?”

It’s just cheesy enough to get me to laugh. “You know what I mean.”

At the somewhat serious answer, Billy straightens slightly. “I want to know that you’re there.” His words are so hushed, so unlike him in their closeness to nervousness that my heart stills. “That you’re okay.”

He’s regarding me with a sharpness that doesn’t fit the low way he’s speaking. I’m struck with the feeling that there’s another layer to what he’s asking me. I almost feel like I’m being tested. If he seemed any less vulnerable I’d question it.

“You don’t think Sid would...” I don’t even know what I’m asking. Am I asking if she’d mind? If she’d think that there was something weird about it?

“No.” Billy’s answer is quick and hard, leaving no room for argument. His fingers tighten around my forearm. The change is so quick it almost feels needy. It’s different than when Stu holds on a little too authoritatively. It’s more desperate and that makes it feel more volatile.

All at once, he softens again. His hold returns to bearable. Not quite as casual as before but no longer unsettling. “She wouldn’t. She’d understand.” He says it so simply, like he has absolutely no doubts. 

He’d know better than me, I guess. They’re the ones dating, which means Billy knows Sid’s boundaries about this stuff better than I do. Which means it is really up to me.

I don’t know what I want, but I know what I don’t. I can’t take anymore grief tonight, anymore worries or arguments. I also know that I don’t want to be alone and that latching onto Billy like this is the most peace I’ve felt all night. “O-okay.”

He exhales, something in him relaxing at my answer. “Okay.” Billy’s voice is more sure than mine. It’s comforting enough to cut through my uncertainty. “Let’s go to bed.” 

---- 

Rationally, I know that technically this is my second time having Billy stay in my room, but it feels a lot different without excessive alcohol. I’m not completely sober yet, I don’t think it’s physically possible to sober up that fast.

The call and panic definitely cut through my buzz, leaving me only with sluggishness that follows drinking. A tired that I can’t give into because of anxiety. 

Billy’s laying next to me, and from what I can tell, he’s breathing easily but I’m not convinced he’s asleep. Despite that, I can’t bring myself to even glance at him from the corner of my eyes. Billy has a way of noticing things like that no matter how subtle I try to be.

He moves, the hand that’s closest to mine brushes against the back of my palm. It’s likely an accident but the small rush of warmth that runs up my fingertips until it reaches my chest is so soothing it nearly gets me to ease. Or jump. Those two feelings are often hard to tell apart around him. 

“Can’t sleep?” 

He hasn’t moved any more so I remain just as still, eyes trained on the ceiling. “I’ll pass out eventually.”

“Might help if you close your eyes.” 

The way Billy just knows things would be scary if it wasn’t so annoying. “Wow, a crystal ball and a deck of cards and you could have your own booth at the fair.” 

Billy lets out a quiet laugh that’s meant to be a scoff. “The fair?” 

I roll my eyes before dutifully returning my gaze to the ceiling. “Come on, don’t tell me that there’s no fair here. It’s not like Woodsboro is some metropolitan, crowded--” 

“Sometimes I forget you’re from Texas and then you start talking about--” 

“Shut up.” 

He sighs in good humor again, his fingers stretching and brushing against my knuckles. “Then go to sleep.” 

If only it was that easy. Ever since what happened at Casey’s, sleep is more of enemy than an escape. When I don’t have dreams that make my stomach turn with guilt, my mind goes over everything that I did wrong. And when I’m spared from that, my thoughts panic over what I’m not sure I remember. 

Sometimes I think that doubting my mind is the worst of it and then the guilt doubles. At least I’m alive. I bet Casey would give anything to feel like she’s going crazy if it meant she could be alive. 

With no warning, Billy turns his hand, pressing fingers in between mine so naturally that I instinctually adjust so that we’re loosely holding hands. “Nothing’s going to happen to you.” 

Promises like that, promises that no one can guarantee, are the most gentle. They come from such good intentions. “Can I ask you something?” Before I can back out, I blurt out the important part, “And you’ll be honest? Promise you’ll be honest?” 

A small moment of silence followed by the squeezing of my palm. “I promise.” 

Slowly, I turn, pulling my hand away. Billy’s hold briefly tightens, but when I persist he lets go. He moves to face me after a second and when he sees that I’m now holding out my pinky, something about his expression softens. He covers his reaction with a pointed look meant to make fun of what I’m asking.

He links his pinky to mine. “You think this actually makes people not lie?” 

It’s a light comment, probably meant to help me shake my mood, so I ignore it. “Do you think I’m crazy?” He’s watching me in a way I can’t interpret. “Or going it?” 

“You’re hurting and you need time.” Billy’s answer isn’t careful or fragile or overly sweet like the sympathetic answers I’m used to. It’s straight forward and blunt enough to pass as honest. “You’re not crazy. You’re smart and that’s the problem.” I draw my eyebrows together. “Smart people always want answers but this isn’t about that. Answers won’t fix anything or bring anyone back.” 

I nod somberly, surprisingly relieved. When my mood doesn’t get better, Billy pulls my hand towards him by my pinky. He presses his lips to my knuckle quickly. It’s enough to make me crack a tired smile, which I guess was his goal. “Thank you.” 

“For telling you you’re not crazy after you accused me of murder?” 

Partially glaring at him, I answer, “Just thank you.” 

“You’re welcome,” he mumbles, “Now go to sleep.” 

“You sound like a mother.” 

His lips press together briefly. “Like your mom has ever had to ask you to do anything twice.” 

That joke’s getting old. “I’m tired of the jokes. So I listen to my mom, she deserves the lack of stress.”

Billy hesitates, “She’s a good mom.” 

“It’s weird without her around.” My mom is the life of the house. She’s always on the phone with friends or playing music or yelling at the TV when characters on a TV show she likes do stupid things. “Quiet.” 

He drops his gaze towards our hands. Our pinkies are still together. “There are worse things than quiet.” His tone reminds me of the way he was when he mentioned his mom. It’s a flash of something wounded. “Quiet’s easier.” 

Another tally in a column about his home life. “What are you thinking about?” The question is a surprise for us both.

“My mom knew how to keep things quiet.” 

I must be in total shock because after a second I ask, “What happened?” His eyes snap up and I regret not swallowing my words. “Not that--I just--I know it’s just your dad and it wasn’t always just your dad.” It’s my turn to stare at our hands. “You don’t need to tell me. Honestly, I--I didn’t mean to ask.” 

He turns over my hand, something about the motion feels strained. Billy’s pointer finger traces patterns against my palm. “It’s fucked up.” 

“Fucked up doesn’t bother me.” My repetition of his earlier words is awkward and much less sure than the original.

Billy’s quiet for a second, an odd tension floating through the room. “Not much to tell. Some whore fucked my dad and my mom did what she had to. My dad didn’t take it too well.”  

Oh. His words hit me a little too hard. I don’t know if the story or the unexpected harshness is what gets to me. Before I can react, Billy places a hand on my shoulder. With no warning, he pushes me so that I’m laying flat against my bed. A tiny yelp escapes me, but Billy doesn’t move. “Now that we’ve done the whole deep dark secrets thing, go to sleep.”

His voice leaves no room for argument but his touch is harder to ignore. “You know the deep dark secrets thing is a major part of girl’s sleepovers. One minute everyone’s painting their nails and the next we’re all crying over our dads or moms or the messed up things we did in middle school.” 

“Go to sleep,” he sighs, hand that’s not pinning me down sliding downwards, just barely touching my hip.

I nod slowly, not trusting myself to speak again. Satisfied, Billy takes his time moving back to the position he was in. This time, he stays closer than he was before.

Hating myself for it a little, I break the comfortable silence, “Billy?” He huffs slightly, like I’ve woken him up after a deep sleep that only took him minutes to find. “If you ever want quiet and can’t get it anywhere you can come over.” I already regret this. “Not--not in a pity way, just a--just so you know, I guess.” 

He shifts closer, pulling my arm towards him. “Might end up moving in then.” 

His muffled words make me let out a partial laugh. “Should let you know it’s like a metaphorical quiet because half the time you can hear my mom talking on the phone to her friends or talking to the TV.” 

“Might have to rethink it then.” The edge in his voice is ruined by the slight smile that I can feel through his tone. 

Billy’s hold on my arm is an anchor I’ve gone too long without. Thoughtlessly, I move my free hand towards his back. My fingers brush against his skin gently. “Did you offer the same thing to your boyfriend?” 

It takes me longer than it should for me to realize what he’s talking about. “Noel?” His silence is enough of an answer. “No, I guess that means I like you more.” He stays quiet. “And he’s not my boyfriend. I just--” 

“Weren’t getting enough attention?” 

With a sigh, I let my hand rest on his back. “I can still kick you out.” He doesn’t move. “And for the record, I just...I thought it’d make me feel normal.” 

“Did he?” 

The question sits with me for longer than it should because I know the answer immediately. It sinks into my chest like a weight threatening to suffocate my lungs. “Not as much as you.” I shut my eyes as if that will save me from his reaction. “I’m going to sleep.” 

---- a few days later ----

“You fucking love it.” Stu makes no attempts to hide petty bitterness as he pulls a joint back to his lips. The whole point of smoking was to stop thinking about you, but weed doesn’t always work the way you want it. “At least admit it.” 

Billy lifts his head enough to reach over for the joint, taking it from Stu. “What’s there to love?” 

Stu sighs. “Fuck off.” Billy breathes in slowly, letting smoke fill his lungs. “You love that Y/n can’t do anything without you. That she lets you sleep in her room more than you sleep in yours.” 

“Just say you’re sorry, give her one of your looks, and say something about your parents.”

Dropping his head back, Stu frowns. “You remember how quick she was to go after some other guy. Like she didn’t give a shit.” Billy patiently watches Stu, noting the way tension continues to expand across Stu’s demeanor. “Even Casey used to--” 

“She gives a shit.” When Stu scoffs, Billy sits up a little more. “She does. Asks about you all the time and then makes me promise to not tell you.” 

There’s only the tiniest shift in Stu’s demeanor, but it’s a start. Your little spat has lasted longer than Stu thought it would, and with each day that you go without initiating conversation, the more the sting of silent rejection bubbles. Billy’s had to keep up with his moods, making sure that Stu’s feelings remain contained. 

“It’s cute,” Billy continues, “Like she has a crush she doesn’t know what to do with.” When Stu stays silent, Billy decides to keep going, “She likes you and she misses you. Use that.” 

“With the way Tatum’s always breathing down my neck now?” 

Maybe if Stu was in a better mood he’d make a joke about how even he can’t really blame Tatum. Stu’s been in a shitty mood for almost two weeks now, which means he hasn’t exactly been devoted. “I’ve got an idea that’ll get you alone with Y/n. No friends, no class, just you and her somewhere she can’t avoid you.” 

At that, Stu manages to crack a grin. “Sounds like my type of situation.” 

----

Taglist: Tags: @cole22ann @womenarecannibals @fand0mskullfa1ry @princessleah129 @i-amnotokaywiththis @fvcking-gxddess @suckmyass-things @im-better-than-your-newborn @michibuni @bigenargy @marli-lavellan @mushy-mushroom04 @neenieweenie @lone-ray @the-ruler-of-death @andthevillainshallrises 

#stu macher #billy loomis x reader #scream x reader #billy loomis #x reader #ghostface #ghostface x reader #stu macher x reader #scream 1996 #poly! ghostface #poly!ghostface x reader #scream #final girl fic #scream imagine

[whiteruncat]

I hope Netflix never gets ahold of another person’s artwork in attempt of a LA like they did with ATLA. If you can’t fully honor someone’s art and respect their ideas then don’t bother with a LA. It’s the most legal form of stealing artwork and creativity. It’s just cruel. And it’s so agitating to see the people saying “Well they tried” “They did their best” “You have to consider” Netflix should have been the ones to consider that maybe they should never have took on something they couldn’t do correctly. They have disrespected so many characters.

* Netflix took out sexism only to throw is back in! Yeah Sokka was sexist but the level of audacity to make the mighty Kyoshi Warrior Suki just another romantic interest is shameful.

* What happened to Katara saving a village of earthbenders? Katara started out strong and only got stronger by walking boldly with compassion, love, and the strength to help those around her.

* Let’s not forget about Bato & Hakoda. They are honorable and respected warriors of the Southern Water Tribe. Neither of them would let Sokka pass his ice dodging test if he failed it. They both love Sokka and respect Sokka too much to lie to him. Sokka passed his ice dodging test btw with Katara, Aang, and Bato.

* Ozai’s attitude towards Azula doesn’t make sense at all. Ozai basks in the glory of being a powerful firebender. His identity is firebending. Ozai married Ursa so his children would be powerful firebenders. Ozai wanted to kill baby Zuko because he wasn’t a powerful firebender. Ozai almost killed Zuko again after he rudely asked for the thrown and was told to sacrifice his son. Azula is Ozai’s pride and joy. She’s the firebending prodigy that’s perfect. Azula has never had to worry about whether her father loves her because Ozai has always favored Azula.

* Just me thing but I think Ozai was way scarier without a face. Only knowing him as Zuko’s father that burned his eye was like wow this dude is evil. Then the season 1 ending with Azula was an ominous beginning for them both.

* It’s kind of sad seeing Sokka so unconfident as a warrior. Sokka is a genius and he’s a warrior. He saw through Jet and saved a village. He played airball with Aang to cheer him up at the Southern Air Temple. Sokka helped trick the Sages to open the door for Aang to meet Roku. Sokka also got covered in snot when he first met Appa.

* Pakku didn’t find Katara’s necklace on the ground and I can’t believe they’re going to just write off Gramp Gramp like that. Why doesn’t Aang ever learn waterbending? Like the first season/book is called water and he is supposed to go the North Pole to learn waterbending. He doesn’t even know any waterbending by the end of the first season. You wrote out Iroh hitting on June but you wrote in June hitting on Iroh. Seriously?? Is Smellerbee the only girl in this LA that’s correctly done right? The Cave of Two Lovers isn’t even in season one!! It’s in season two.

* Bumi was done dirty. Aang, Katara, and Sokka got arrested for being goofy kids and destroying cabbages. Bumi came off as this mad king that was giving Aang three deadly challenges. Each one Aang had to think differently to solve. At the end when Aang realized the king was Bumi they laughed together and reminisced. Bumi set it up to show Aang that he would have to face many difficulties ahead as the avatar. He had no hard feelings towards Aang once. Bumi was so hateful in the LA towards Aang he acted like he flat out just wanted to hurt Aang.

* Aang is another big one obviously. He’s a kid and that’s just how he acts. Aang also chose to runaway. He was almost alone once he learned about being the avatar. His friends didn’t play the way they used to. And his best friend Gyatsu was all he had. When Aang heard they were going to take him away from Gyatsu he ran away because he knew that he would be alone. Being avatar wasn’t so much seen as a heavy responsibility at the time to a kid like Aang but it was the cause of his loneliness and he resented the title. Learning the abilities that followed were cool to Aang because he wasn’t alone and had new friends. LA Aang acts so serious and mature when Aang is serious-ly not mature at all.

I have to congratulate Netflix on one thing though. I hated the LA so much it made me miss the animated ATLA so I went out to the store and bought the animated set. Rewatching it is reliving the best days of my life.

I don’t blame any actors in the LA. I truly think they all did the best with what Netflix gave them. It’s not easy to act with bad script. 10/10 would have loved to have seen them in a good LA of ATLA made by the creators.

#avatar the last airbender #princess azula #aang #Bato #hakoda #sokka #ozai #atla netflix #katara #atla suki

[cascodedtech]

"Ah well, always did want to go his own way. Always asking damn fool questions, too."

Okay, I'm trying to get my thoughts together here, but let me see if I can verbalize why this line bothers me so much.

I generally take the final fifteen at face value (although I absolutely love reading any and all meta/theories about it). I think Aziraphale believes that he can make a difference, and I think he honestly thought making Crowley an angel again was a good thing, not because he doesn't think Crowley is good (he tells Crowley such on multiple occasions), but because I think there is a part of him that believes that Crowley doesn't like to cause misery for humanity and this would give him an out. I don't think he really considered how it would sound, and I think he was honestly surprised by Crowley's reaction. And I think that sometimes Aziraphale uses Crowley as a moral compass to some extent, not in the sense of Crowley knowing what is good, but Crowley knowing the shades of grey and what doesn't feel right, which, in part is why he was reconsidering going to heaven when The Metatron came back into the bookshop.

HOWEVER, this line from The Metatron always bothered me. We've already established that Crowley and The Metatron know each other, and are familiar enough that Crowley recognizes him right away (I don't think this is just because of the trial video he watched in heaven, because Saraqeal saw it too and didn't recognize him, and Michael and Uriel also interacted with him during the trial and neither recognized him).

I think that whatever rank Crowley was in heaven (I have my own theories), it involved close work or interaction with The Metatron on a fairly regular basis, and I sometimes wonder if The Metatron didn't have something to do with his fall (I acknowledge that Neil has told us Crowley is an unreliable narrator, so I don't think he fell by "accident"). From what I can remember about biblical lore, Lucifer (and his angels) fell, not because he questioned God, but because he refused to put humanity above his love for God. Crowley, from what I can tell, is the only angel who *questioned* God. He actually does love humanity more than God, so he actually really didn't go against God's will in heaven, per se.

So, when The Metatron tells Aziraphale that Crowley always did want to go his own way and how he was always asking questions, it implies some kind of familiarity, and I don't think it was necessarily just by reputation.

Consider that in 1x01, Gabriel didn't even really seem to know who Crowley was (which always struck me as a little weird), despite the fact that we know Crowley fought in the war in heaven, and logic would posit that "The Supreme Archangel" would have also fought in the war. And sure, there were probably hundreds or thousands of participants in the war, but Crowley is well-known enough that he is recognizable to both demons and angels that he hasn't interacted with for thousands of years.

...

I've lost the thread now. Uh, to sum up, I think Crowley was important and powerful in heaven. I don't think God is who made Crowley fall. I think The Metatron did it or played some role in it, and I think that he knew Crowley would never go back to heaven, but needed to sever the connection between Crowley and Aziraphale because he knew that Crowley would know something was going on in heaven, when Aziraphale might not (I think Aziraphale knows heaven is toxic, but I think he is willing to go back because he truly believes he can make a difference *for humanity* by being in charge, I just don't think he's actually going to be in charge, and Crowley knows that but Aziraphale doesn't).

Anyway, I have no idea if this stream of consciousness makes any sense to anyone else, but, I'm very interested to see if we will get more heaven flashbacks/minisodes in Season 3, particularly of The Battle and Crowley's fall.

#good omens #good omens meta #good omens theories #anthony j crowley #aziraphale #the metatron #the final fifteen

[drakaripykiros130ac]

Why certain people should stop comparing Rhaenyra to Cersei, and start comparing Alicent to that she-Lion:

Another weak argument brought forward by the greens and about to be nipped in the butt by me: that somehow Rhaenyra is just like Cersei.

Is she really? Is that all you (and you know who you are) can bring to the table? Why? Simply because they both have children of questionable parentage? That’s it?

Green team can take notes:

1. Rhaenyra is the reigning Queen of the ruling House Targaryen =/= Cersei is only a queen consort. Why is that relevant you ask? Because the paternity of Rhaenyra’s children hardly matters when the blood of the ruling House runs through their veins. Even if they are born out of wedlock, the boys are still Targaryen by blood and can be legitimized by the monarch. It happened many times along the years.

Cersei’s children were not of the blood of the ruling House Baratheon. By passing them off as Baratheons, Cersei committed treason. Not to mention that Lannisters don’t get a pass like the Targaryens when it comes to incest.

2. Laenor, the consort, openly recognized the boys as his own, and so did Corlys, their grandfather and the Lord of Driftmark, even though they knew the truth.

Robert Baratheon, the King, had no idea that the children weren’t his. And he never found out.

3. Cersei and Tywin Lannister have plotted for years to steal the throne from the ruling House Baratheon, just like Alicent and her father are doing to House Targaryen. This resemblance cannot be ignored.

4. Rhaenyra Targaryen has properly raised her children and has truly instilled in them compassion, honor, decency and respect. She has never once tried to turn her children against their uncles Aegon and Aemond, even though she could have. And she was a teenage mom, just like Alicent. The only difference is that Rhaenyra also had to carry the burden of being married to a man who can’t perform in bed with her or any woman.

Alicent, on the other hand, although she seems to have some sort of twisted love towards her children, just like Cersei, she chose to instill in them hatred, deviousness and cruelty. Alicent chose to turn her children against their half-sister Rhaenyra and her children. And as a result, she has:

- a rapist (Aegon) = almost a Joffrey 2.0

- a frustrated murderer (Aemond)

- a nutcase (Helaena) - it’s one thing to be a dreamer and a whole other to be completely out of touch with reality. I am sure if Helaena had been raised by Rhaenyra, she would have turned out differently.

Alicent must be so proud. Instead of pointing fingers at other people’s children, she should take a good look at her own family tree.

The same could be said for Cersei and that monster she raised (Joffrey). And if she had actually bothered to give Tommen as much attention as she gave Joffrey, maybe he wouldn’t have turned out to be such a naive wimp.

All in all, both Cersei and Alicent failed Parenting 101.

5. Rhaenyra has NEVER displayed the type of cruelty that Cersei has from the very beginning.

Alicent on the other hand…emotionally abused Rhaenyra and forced her many times to get out of her birthing bed and present her the children (as if it is any of her business, as a mere consort), showed her true nature when she called out to have Lucerys’ eye removed as so-called “fair” punishment for what happened to her son (I have never heard of a child to be forced by adults to endure permanent physical impairment after a fight between children regardless of the outcome of that fight), and attacked Rhaenyra.

This type of cruelty that Alicent displayed, often reminded me of Cersei. The only difference is that at least Cersei has always owned up to what she has done. Alicent never owned up to anything and tried to justify herself by putting on the Virgin Mary act.

Conclusion:

Alicent Hightower = weaker and more pathetic version of Cersei Lannister

#TEAM BLACK 🖤

#anti greens #house of the dragon #team black #anti alicent hightower #anti criston cole #anti otto hightower #princess rhaenyra #queen rhaenyra #hotd rhaenyra #hotd #anti team green #pro team black #anti cersei lannister #pro daemon targaryen #anti aegon ii targaryen #anti aemond targaryen #anti aemond stans #anti house hightower #anti alicent stans #pro rhaenyra #jacaerys velaryon #lucerys valeryon #joffrey velaryon #aegon iii targaryen #viserys ii targaryen

[just-a-gamer-daydeamer-girl]

More Rayman head cannons now starring his friends!

Rayman is unable to stretch, but is curious about it because he hears it feels good, if he somehow gets arms and legs he probably try stretching to see how it feels

Ly, murffy and Betilla are all different species of fairy. Betilla’s kind is more of a typical fairy with wings while Ly’s kind is humanoid with animal and insect traits, such as tails, claws or butterfly wings. Murffy’s kind has the traditional wings but are pretty small.

Ly can only ‘fly’ when channeling her magic, and runs on all fours

Globox has an incredible memory, he remembers ALL of his children’s names and distinct features and personality traits.

Barbara was saved by Rayman out of her imprisonment from her tower, but this happened differently then the tropes, after all it was a self imprisonment, Rayman convinced her to step out and save her kingdom (after the two of them brawled)

Voodoo mama is an expert of transformation magic, it’s why her wings are bat wings, she liked the look and feel of them better then the typical fairy wings.

Betilla used to have limbs, however due to creating Rayman and giving him powers, she ended up losing them becoming limbless. Her magic is in Rayman and Rayman’s power is in her.

Rayman real size is in fact around 5ft(including the space where his ‘legs’ should be), but he actually changes his size depending on his mood. He has the power to change size remember? He can’t get super tiny with out the help of a funnel or a flying blue elf, but he can shrink down a good few feet. He can’t do it instantly though and he likes to be on the smaller size.

Barbara’s favorite food is chocolate

The magician is the one who made the end goal signs in Rayman 1,

Betilla has a pretty grey moral compass but it’s a lot more functional then other magic users.

Raymesis has a soft spot for music boxes

Clark likes having tea, but it’s difficult for him to find cups that he can’t accidentally break. He also like flavorful drinks.

Dolph Laserhawk has quite a serious hair care routine (before he got caught became a GHOST) I mean have you seen his hair in the series? It’s beautiful.

Bullfrog never got a proper name, (I mean his name is kinda the equivalent of a man being named Homo sapien or Human). This is due to the life he lived before becoming an assassin, honestly hybrid seem to be so abused that it wouldn’t be surprising to me if some of them weren’t given names cuz why bother. After becoming an assassin he had the chance of getting a proper name but he refused sticking with the name Bullfrog.

Ramon may not be aware of this but he’s got control over his hair and can glide just like Rayman. He did slick his hair back no problem.

Rayman helped the space opera network so much that it’s practically another studio compared to when the Phantom ran it. It’s now got quality and passionate programs that are encouraged to be as creative as possible, not to mention the amazing employee benefits and the fact no one judges you because of your specices.

Ly like learning about magic and has definitely messed with cursed artifacts and tried to learn more about Rayman biology (he did not make it easy for her).

The space opera network most popular show was ment to be a prank. It was just video footage of Rayman sleeping, but it was wildly popular. (Rayman has no idea about this)

Tilly wants to become a hero and fighter just like Rayman and is doing her best to try and become his apprentice by impressing him. She just has really odd ideas on how to impress…

Most of the princesses in Rayman legends are related to each other.

Beeb-o is Jeanie’s father. Their relationship is weird cuz there robots, but over the course of sparks of hope Jeanie ‘grows up’ from just an ai ment to help to truly her own being.

Rabbid Mario does a lot of unboxing videos, Rabbid peach always butts in.

The four kings in Rayman origins were monster because they were inflicted with darktoons, if the fishermen/monks had the darktoons stuck on their head too long they would turn into monsters as well.

Rayman has a really soft and squishy torso, he pretty much has no bones in there. He makes squeaky toy noises if he is squeezed hard enough.

Elysia doesn’t actually have a scar or a missing tooth, he actually puts on makeup to match her sister, everything else she just goes goth.

Rayman had a special vault installed in the space opera network, it keeps the more dangerous props from causing damage, such as weapons, explosives and darkmess that the prop department tried to use, only Rayman knows how to open the vault, no one gets to use the dangerous stuff without his knowledge or permission.

Finally:

Rayman’s existence cannot be erased by anything. No god, infinity gauntlet or whatever can make him fade away.

#rayman #headcanons #ly #betilla #murfy #globox #mario + rabbids #rayman 1 #rayman 2 #rayman origins #rayman legends #Rayman 3 #beep o #rayman in the phantom show #barbara #captain laserhawk #Ramon #dolph laserhawk #bullfrog #Tilly #the magician #a lot of characters #Clark #my post