#the interviewer barely gets to speak lmao

[glassofpumpkinjuice]

giggling about guitars 😊

[the-physicality]

so i did watch jocks in jills as per my usual monday routine

[kenyummy]

✰ 04. the ballad of a bygone blight.

✰ ꒰ ⍣'ˎ˗ platonic yandere batfam / spider! reader ꒱

✰ 04. fantastic four.

SYNOPSIS : being spidey isn't easy. being transported into an alternate universe where you're nothing but a shadow in your house, makes sneaking around a little easier... until you find yourself the apple of their eye... kind of.

note: had to wrack my brain to remember what math i was learning in seventh grade LMAO . sometimes i forget damian is just a little guy in like seventh to eighth grade. crazy. and please let me know if there's any mistakes with pronouns/gender!!! i want to keep this open to everybody so im always trying my best ❤️

also ive realised how chopped harry is in the comics after taking my rose coloured lenses off. basically he and mj have their look in the ultimate spiderman TV show (in my eyes anyway, i kind of just described their appearance based off tgat lmaooo)

prev. ✰ masterlist ✰ next.

School has never felt so bland for you. Sure, it was never your favourite thing in the world—except for maybe biology—but you'd think that discovering a whole new world in your last year would make it a little more interesting.

It didn't.

It's been three weeks since you crash landed here in Gotham. The most you'd gotten from your family was an awkward "how are you" occasionally, and a lot of staring.

You'd only shown yourself as Spidey a few times to the public, but never stayed for those pesky news reporters shoving their microphones into your face. You'd never liked interviews, anyway.

The only highlight of your long days were MJ and Harry. You'd gotten over the initial shock of Harry being in love with you—convincing yourself that it really wasn't you he liked; it was this world's original you. (Though—that fact still lingers in the back of your mind whenever you talk).

Apart from that, school truly was uneventful. Your kooky art teacher was the only one of whom you actually liked, and it seemed the education here was rather lax. Uncaring. Not good for your future, surely—but you wouldn't have a future here, and you're sure this [name] Wayne will be just fine.

Speaking of schooling—the people here really seemed to hate the Gotham Prep kids. More than what a petty rivalry should be—it was pure malice.

Harry was especially adamant about this.

"They're all dumb, entitled rich kids who use daddy's money to get whatever they want, you know." He stabs his fork into a dry cut of chicken violently. Then points, accusatory, at MJ—who already presents a sneer to him. "And don't you start lumping me in with them—you know I'm not like that."

Her face twists, but soon she grins cheekily. "Okay, fine. Yeah, you're totally not, otherwise nobody here would like you one bit. And who doesn't love Harry, huh?"

"Oh, be quiet," But still, he smiles—damn his head is big. He glances over at you. You're picking around at your soggy broccoli with a frown. "Hey, [name]. Don't two of your brothers go to Gotham Prep?"

You look up at your ginger friend, head tilted to the side before it clicked. Oh, right. Tim and that young boy—Damian, if you remember correctly. Tim barely ever went to school if your diary was still accurate, and Damian had little choice but to.

(Doesn't seem like he'd be the social butterfly type, though.)

"Yeah, they do." You nod, still fiddling around with that vegetable.

"Not that I'm not glad that you're here—but why don't you go to school with them?" MJ leans forward in her seat. "I mean, isn't it easier for siblings to go to the same school?"

Your eyes widen for a second.

There's a few ways you can go about this.

One—you tell them everything you know about your other self. About how you never felt included enough to ask. How you never spent time with them. How it always felt like everything and everyone else was more important than you. How you suffered silently—begging for their attention for years like a house pet becoming a stray.

Two—you could tell them you have absolutely no idea because you have none of your memories of anything from the past years of this life—how you don't even remember all your siblings names half the time.

Or three, and your personal favourite—you can just lie.

It doesn't take a serial genius to figure out which one you chose.

"I guess I just didn't like the rich private school vibe they had going on." A smile falls over your lips. "Plus—you guys were coming here, so it gave me even more of a reason to attend, you know?"

You're not entirely sure that's true. But—if these two were anything like the Harry and MJ you know—then this would probably be right.

Judging from their smiles, your detective skills haven't failed you yet.

"Man!" MJ lolls her head back, groaning. "Can't believe I'm friends with two rich kids who get to choose which school they want—the beat down public or sleek rich private."

"Don't go dissing this school just because you're jealous of their uniforms," Harry snickers, pressing his index finger into MJ's cheek. She huffs and slaps him away.

"Silence, nepo baby. Your dad is basically Lex Luthor if he wasn't bald."

Harry looks more confused than offended at her comment, "Okay, but my dad isn't an evil mastermind plotting against a red and blue suited superhero."

You press your lips together thinly and look to the side, eyes focused on anything but him. Oh, Harry—if only you knew.

Damian Wayne had never truly seen the point of highschool.

Raised by assassains all his life—he had little room, time, and desire to learn about all this nonsense. While he enjoyed arts and fine literature—he couldn't find it within himself to care about the American Revolution, or whatever other ridiculous thing happened in history.

His maths teacher was absolutely, indubitably pathetic. Always on his phone as he assigns mountains of homework (because he never bothers to explain the complex materials they're given) on the latest subject—whether it be those blasted simultaneous equations, or to factorise useless monic trinomials. Even calculating tax and interest on the stupidest of cases.

Damian found himself sitting in the corner of his class in silence, staring down, bored, at the book in front of him. He truly hated math. There's so much real work to be done—crime to fight, plotting organisations to take down.

But his father, as always, is unmoving in his conviction that school is important. For Damian especially, anyway; Drake can skip as often as he likes because he's a senior already. Truly, ridiculous.

For Damian, and—oh.

You.

Bruce always seemed especially insistent on you two going to school. Even when everyone but him knew you skipped every few days and simply come home to wait.

Wait for what? For them?

His brows furrow. Suddenly, the black and white equations on the sheet blur and he zones out. Thinking.

You always did. From the day he'd walked into the manor, you were always there. Unconsciously, he'd notice it. A trait of a good assassin is that they can spot everyone in the room.

A trait of a great assassin is that they can spot everyone inside and watching.

Always, you were watching. Those pitiful stares. Desperate like a unloved pet. If he cared a little more (if any at all), he would've felt sorrow for your state.

Always wanting, but never asking. Never taking. Simply waiting for it all to come to you. He would never understand it. He would never understand you.

He would never understand how somebody could allow themselves to be so weak.

Like everybody else—when he first entered the manor, he proposed to fight you. Assuming—being the child of his father, like he was—you were worthy. That you were strong.

He doesn't know how he could've been so wrong. You immediantly reacted, gasping and clutching your face. He'd nicked it with the edge of his blade after he unsheathed it. You looked at the blood dotting your fingertips, then back at him, eyes wide.

Immediantly, Bruce rushed to his side and pushed him behind his larger, imposing figure—telling you to not interact with him because he's different to regular people. Different to you.

He watched you storm off from behind his father's legs; anger practically blaring off your figure.

Later—he happened to overhear you and Grayson talking quietly. Telling you to not be too hard on Damian, because he's troubled. That he's had a difficult life. At first—he was a tad offended—but that offence could not compare to the absolute fury burning in your eyes.

Though, it all melted away when Grayson's hand ruffled your hair. Like a little kid, you stared up at him, soft and starry-eyed as you unconsciously murmured you'd forgive your new little brother.

Damian dry-heaved. You were so goddamn weak.

So weak, and so normal. Everything you did was completely regular. You were on the same wavelength as the civilians he saved from burning rubble. The same as people who walked down the street, talking about their favourite Justice League member. Who cowered in fear in front of villains—to be saved by those heroes. By him.

You were nothing, and yet everything he could never have been.

(What child does not long for normalcy?)

Damian always thought you were rather helpless, regardless of how regular you were—and seeing you with that bullet lodged in your shoulder—he was right. Not being able to dodge something like a bullet—there was no wonder you never become a vigilante. There was no wonder you needed to be protected.

... Though—he began to think back.

Who did? Protect you; that is.

Whoever it was, they did a pretty awful job at it.

Damian strums his fingers against the hardwood table rhythmically. Face blank but mind running rapidly.

It couldn't have been Todd. No—he seemed to be in a frazzled state of mania when carrying your bleeding body in your arms. Perhaps he too, believed you were safe with the rest of his family.

(Oh how wrong Todd was—he looked livid.)

... Grayson?

No. When he's not in Blüdhaven, he is almost always with the other vigilantes within the family. Not here nor there, and certainly not close enough to protect you.

Not Drake. He never cared enough, despite everything. Not Cain, either. Though the silent protector type—she had too much on her plate to worry about you as well.

Gordon and Brown had their own families to worry about.

And his—your father? The Batman? There was no time for a regular child like you in the Batman's life of vigilantism. Whom he sworn to protect in his crusade now lay bleeding out in his great failure's arms.

...

Did you truly have nobody?

...

Damian couldn't really imagine it. He'd always assumed you had many friends to fill the void that yoir family left with their civilian clothes. ... Perhaps you did. He wouldn't know.

You are his only half sibling. In this world, only he is truly your brother, and you are his only older sibling. Does that not give him the slightest of responsibility?

He'd always been taught to keep everybody at arms length—even his own family. The whole world is out to get the Demon's grandson, then he must fight it. But his father taught him differently.

To protect those who cannot protect themselves—to keep those he cares about safe at any cost.

What of you? He does not care for you in the way an ordinary sibling should. Seeing you so weak, defenceless against him—must mean you trust him in some way.

(It's hard for him to fathom being able to feel so unprotected in a world he was taught was trying to extinguish him at every turn).

Regardless of how you don't belong—or how frosty you act toward your youngest brother—he has a duty.

No matter how hard you try—you can never sever the blood you two share. The others do not have this duty—but he does, because in the end, you are his. None of the others bothered, so Damian must.

You are everything he could never be, he has realised. But in the end, you are blood. It runs thicker in the veins than any water, and that is one of the most important things to Damian.

Seeing that same blood—his blood—spill out of you carelessly—that is a sight he will never bear witness to again.

Damian was the first one out the door as soon as the bell chimed in his ear. His bag slung tightly around his shoulders and textbook under his arm; he rushed into the familiar sight of a sleek, large car.

He shuts the door as he climbs into the backseat (Bruce said he was still too short to sit in the front, much to his son's displeasure). "Hello, Pennyworth."

Alfred glances back at him through the rear view mirror. "Good afternoon, Master Damian. How was school?"

"Same as usual. A waste of time." He clicks his seatbelt shut as the car begins to move. Alfred only hums, keeping his eyes trained on the road.

"I'm unsurprised to hear you say so. I do hope you understand why exactly, you are enrolled in school, however. And why Master Bruce is so adamant about your attendance."

Damian knows. He's always known, because it has been drilled into his head like a mantra. Talia and Ra's Al Ghul weren't math teachers—and most of his time really was spent training and sparring to be the best he could be.

He was not illiterate, nor stupid. Rather smart, actually. However, he didn't exactly learn algebra and chemistry with the League of Assassins.

He grumbles. "I know, Pennyworth. Father cannot seem to stop reminding me that all these things are far more important than stopping the endless wave of crime in Gotham."

If he weren't on the road—Alfred surely would've given him a nasty look. "Master Damian, please—your sincerity is positively slaughtering me."

Damian rolls his eyes, opting to stop this fruitless conversation and look outside the windows instead. At the outside world—the sky already paling to deep auburn shades as they drive through the endless roads.

He watched all the cars moving past; hurrying to get to their destination. Each with their own story and reason for being there. Every single one with their own thoughts and worries. Some with children, others with pets, and some with piles of groceries.

All with their own, individual lives. Including him.

A bus, too. It stops for a moment at a sheltered space, then drives away, leaving a few people standing under the shade.

An elderly lady with a man, presumably her son, walking away with her. A woman with frizzy red hair and freckles dotted over her nose. A few schoolkids—some his age, some older. Clearly from the public school on the other side of Gotham, if only to judge from the scantily clad clothes some of the older students wore—

Wait, is that you?

He sits up—the car slowly coming to a stop at a red light. His eyes don't leave your figure as he presses his nose against the window; observing.

You look around at the people that pass by you—gripping your bag close to your side and rushing into the nearest alleyway.

He waits for a few moments. This red light feels rather long—but what feels longer is watching and waiting for you to come out of that alleyway.

You never do.

Even as the car begins to move once more, driving past the intersection, he crawls as far back as possible to even get a glimpse—but you never show.

Just today, he had decided to be the one to take up the mantle and protect you. Just today, during a boring math class, he has decided that since you are his blood, he must keep a helpless civilian like you safe.

And now you're gone. Are you dead, or something?

(Deep down, his stomach twists at the thought.)

"Pennyworth, pull over." Hid voice is more taut than he had imagined. "Now."

Alfred looks back, glancing at the streets around. He doesn't question the young boy, simply doing as he is asked and pulling over to a deserted parking area.

When he has parked the car, he turns around and sees Damian slipping his Robin mask on—somehow already fully suited up.

His eyes widen, "Master Damian, what—"

"I have something to do. Let Father know I will be back home late."

Opening the door, Damian rushes out and pulls out his grappling hook, swinging onto the nearest building's roof and looking around.

He spots the alleyway you'd run into. It is still. Absolutely no movement nor any looks from passer-bys. He rushes across the roves towards where the dark side seeped into the crack of the buildings.

Maybe you'd taken another way out?

But looking at the alleyway now, it's more like a dip between the buildings to stand in more than anything. It was blocked off on the other side.

So where...???

He drops down, landing on his soles and squinting as he stares around into the dark. There's nothing.

No people, nor bodies, and certainly not anything to indicate anybody was ever here.

Except...

He glances at the wall. Theres a white cocoon-esque oval webbed to the wall. Those same webs he'd seen all that time ago—from that spider. That would show up then leave immediantly. Never staying for longer than they had to.

Dodging all of his and Batman's attempts at asking who you were, and what you were doing in Gotham. Always swinging away into the distance before they could be subdued.

Now, he stares at their ball of webbing and wonders if it truly is an arachnid he's dealing with.

He pokes it, looking it up and down. Then, he sees it. Through the small holes in the webs and the translucent, silk-like material—he finally sees it.

Your bag.

He tears off the webbing faster than he can think, getting the sticky substance stuck to his gloves and clothes; he barely even notices it. He grabs your bag and stares it, swallowing hard.

His mind buzzes with an unfamiliar staticky feeling and he suddenly feels sick to his stomach. Despite all the noise in his ear—his brain is able to comprehend one singular question.

... What did that arachnid do to you?

Clothed fingers digging deep into the leather fabric of the bag—clearly worn down and fading. Old. He would get Father to purchase you another. ... When he sees you next. Because he will.

His jaw clenches hard.

Damian throws the bag over his shoulder and grapples up—swinging onto a building roof and running across.

Running for what, he isn't sure. But what he is sure of, is that once he gets his hands on that arachnid, it will not be kind.

To find out what happened to you—that is his duty as your blood sibling.

He decides that in this life, he will be your protector. In the next, if he is ever given a chance to be normal like you—he will become a doctor. Or perhaps a painter. Or a poet. Maybe he will ask you to help him decide when he finds you and that arachnid.

... Yes, that sounds good.

You cut through the cool wind as you swing through the city. Grinning widely underneath your mask—you don't think you've ever been so happy since you landed here.

You're sure nobody will take your stuff. Even if they do, you could always just get whatever else you needed again. You were far too excited to dwell on the small stuff right about now.

Landing on a rooftop, crouched—you walk down the wall of the apartment complex, and look around for civilians. As he told you—the streets around the back of the building were practically deserted.

You count the amount of rooms from the side, up and down.

"Row 5, Apartment block... 2..." You hum, and nod to yourself.

You tap your necklace and the nanobots all crawl off your body, leaving you in your regular clothes. You land safely on the balcony of the room you were given.

You smooth out your flared jeans and take in a deep breath. Then, you bring up your knuckles, and knock.

The glass screen door opens before you can say fantastic.

A small pair of arms wrap around your torso and knock you backwards—you fall on your ass and let out a loud laugh.

"Spidey!!! [name]!!!"

"Is that who I think it is?!" You tease, eyes squinted upwards and the young kid buries into your stomach. His giggles are muffled by the fabric and he squeezes you so tight you'd be inclined to choke—if it wasn't you. "Frankie!! How's my favourite Richard?"

"I can't believe you'd say that, [name]. That hurts." A familiarly sweet voice speaks.

"Sue!" You grin, taking in the sight of the blonde and her husband by her side. You get up—Franklin stumbles behind you—and crash into her arms.

She chuckles, patting your back and smiling down at you, "I missed you too, [name]. You always manage to find yourself in the strangest situations, don't you?"

Reed cradles his chin, "Well, we were technically the cause of this distortion in reality, Susan—"

But seeing the expression on both your and his wife's face; he stops himself. Only smiling sheepishly. "My apologies. It's great to see you again, [name]. I didn't think we'd find another familiar face in a different universe."

"You're getting better at this, Reed." You lift yourself from Sue's comforting cradle and grin brightly up at him. "I didn't think I'd see all of you guys again, either. When you all disappeared for so long—I was wondering if something bad happened."

"Hah! Ta us? You kiddin'? Ya more bug-brained 'den that spider that bit ya!"

"Ben!!!" You go flying toward the rock-encased man and wrap your arms around his comfortingly tough neck. He spins you around and lets you down with a loud laugh.

"'Ey kid, how're ya? Heard ya tackled ol' matchstick 'ere outta the sky!" He slaps his rocky chest laughing—in the corner of your eye, Johnny stands behind him, unimpressed.

He walks up beside you, swinging an arm around your neck and snarks, "Yeah—well, Spidey's always been known for catching people off guard, huh? Creepin' up when you least expect it."

"You're making [name] sound like a villain, Unc!" Frankin, who had found himself attached to the side of your shirt, sticks out his tongue.

Johnny recoils, face falling in pure horror as he dramatically points at the young boy, "UNC??!! I... I'm an Unc now...??? I'm not even 19! I can't be an Unc!!!"

You burst out into laughter at the genuineness of Johnny's expression, watching as he freaks out about being "old". Sue and Reed roll their eyes—while Ben is there with you, laughing his ass off like he'd just gotten a home run on Yancy Street.

Franklin looks at your laughing expression and starts giggling along—jumping up and down beside you with sparkling eyes.

"Stop laughing, [name]! We're the same age!" Johnny points, accusatory. "If I'm an Unc, you're a...!"

"Doesn't matter. I'm cooler than Uncle Johnny anyways, right Frankie?" You grin, picking up Franklin as he cuddles into your neck.

"Mhm!" He nods eagerly.

Johnny sends you a blazing glare, lips pouted out. "You and me. We're—" He gestures to the two of you. "—gonna have some issues, here. Okay. Everyone knows I'm the cool Uncle."

"No, that's Benny!" Franklin points to Ben.

The look on Johnny's face shifts into utter disbelief—Ben falls out of his chair laughing wildly.

"Gosh, I missed you so much, kid." You pull at one of Franklin's cheeks and chuckle. He stares at you in awe for a few seconds, before hugging the side of your head and giggling.

"I missed you too!"

That same warmth fills each crevice and pore of your body, as you huddle close to your dear friends and let yourself feel at home for this small moment.

Meanwhile, in the dark of night, a pair of azure eyes watches, sharp and unnerving in the back of your skull.

You notice it. Of course you do. Your mind is tingling with that buzz—but you want to enjoy this night of nothing but home, even if only once.

taglist: @hello-bina @cosmosluckycharms @1abi @yhin-gg @insideoutjulie @bluepanda08 @omnivirgo @vanessa-boo @dind1n @welpthisisboring @lunaetiicsaystuff @marsmabe @atanukileaf @findingjaxx @4mrplumi @bunniotomia @lostsomewhereinthegarden @bat1212 @gaychaosgremlin @bongwaterflavoredgatorade @randomlyappearingartist @cxcilla @spidermanluvr444 @cruzerforce4256 @mybones537 @xjesterxjacksx @nirvanaxx1942 @djpuppy-kittens @br33zy-blizzardz @moon0goddess @0sunnyside01 @mei-simp @redsakura101 @the-dumber-scaramouche @wizzerreblogs @lovemiss-vale @deathbynarcisstick @allycat4458 @wonmyheart @luckyangelballoon @one-piecelover @hartwyrm @horror-lover-69 @maria-trisha @4rachn3 @galaxypurplerose @duskeras @coffeeaddictxd @lithiumval @kaz-playz

tsglist is closed, sorry! but do try and keep up with updates thank you!!!

[starkeymeow]

❛ we make each other alive . .

does it matter if it hurts? ❜

I’M COMING, WAIT FOR ME.

PLOT you enter the hunger games a proud weapon of your district, only to find your sharpest blade is the boy beside you, and you’re not sure which one of you the capitol wants to break first.

CONTENT chapter twenty-six, best read in dark mode, rafe cameron x reader au, me vs skipping the training scores and going straight to the interviews LMAO, okay update i skip the rest of the interviews too, rafe n y/n before the games yay

main masterlist | series ml | tag list | previous next

you step out on stage beside rafe, hands brushing. the audience roars like they’ve been waiting for you, like this is what they’ve paid for. you’re their stars, their gladiators.

you don’t trip, but it feels like you might. it’s not even because of the heels or the dress or the lights. it’s because of the damn weight.

valis didn’t hold back, again. your dress is carved in molten red and veined bronze. the fabric is heavy and regal, hugging you like a second skin. the back is open, of course, displaying the metallic thorns etched into your spine like war medals. the front is a sculpted bodice that sweeps up into an off-shoulder crown of black satin, heavy at the collarbone.

rafe, beside you, wears a matching look. it’s blood-colored silk under a sharply tailored bronze jacket. you both look like you’ve walked out of a war museum. and maybe you have.

caesar greets you with his signature grin, teeth too white and too wide. his hair is dyed an even deeper blue this year. he makes jokes you barely hear, gives you both dramatic introductions like usual.

you both stand on your marker. the crowd loves you, but not quietly. they scream, they chant, they wave signs with your names on them.

caesar begins with the usual questions, like how you’re feeling, how it felt to be at the reaping, how strange it is to be back on this stage. the words are harmless on paper but cruel in practice, and you both do what you’ve been trained to do; smile without smiling, answer without really answering, offer little pieces of yourselves without handing over your throats.

but then the moment comes where the script dies and the truth slips in sideways.

caesar turns and you take a breath.

“i’ve loved him since i was seventeen,” you begin. “i never said it out loud in our first games. not on camera. not until it was over. but it was true.”

the room shifts. the crowd hushes, even caesar leans closer.

“and when we got home,” you go on, “we thought that was it . . . that we were done, that we got to live, that we got to breathe. that we won something bigger than just survival.”

your hand finds rafe’s beside you. he laces his fingers through yours instantly, tightly.

“but now they’ve brought us back,” you say. “now they’re asking us to do it again. but this time, we don’t get to leave together. not again. and whether or not one of us physically comes out of this alive to win, if one of us dies, then the other does too.”

there’s a silence in the air now. you turn to the audience instead of caesar.

“you all loved us. i know you did. but if you really love us, then help us. say something. we deserve to live. all of us here tonight. not just one.”

a flicker in the back rows, someone’s crying. it’s not loud, but it’s there. and then rafe speaks.

“i didn’t volunteer to be noble,” he says plainly, clearly. “i volunteered because she’s the only thing left i believe in anymore.”

you squeeze his hand.

“you gave us a story to believe in. we were supposed to get our fairytale ending,” he tells them, much like you did. “but the truth is, if you really believed in us, if you really meant it, then you wouldn’t be okay with this. with watching us die for your entertainment again.”

he looks at the camera now. you do too.

“you don’t need to cheer for us,” you say. “you need to fight for us.”

the silence is thunderous. until it’s not. someone claps, then another, then another.

you kiss rafe’s cheek. caesar says something behind you, but you don’t hear it. you’re too focused on the crowd, not the roar of them, but the shift in them. the change.

you walk with rafe up the stairs, hand in hand, and take your place with the others. you see gloss and cashmere already standing, already watching. you nod to them in acknowledgement.

the lights in the room are dim. you’re lying on your side, legs tangled with rafe’s beneath the sheets. one of his arms is tucked under his head, the other curved around your waist.

your hand moves slowly across his face, knuckles skimming the curve of his cheek, thumb brushing beneath his eye. his lashes flutter shut like your touch soothes something deeper than he can name.

you keep going. your fingers drift down to his wrist, tracing the bones there, the vein that pulses just under the skin. then up again, over the muscle of his shoulder, the sharp collar of bone that juts when he breathes in.

he exhales quietly, eyes still closed.

your palm comes to his jaw, thumb ghosting along the edge of his ear, then down, soft, to the curve of his mouth. you feel the way his lips part slightly beneath your thumb. you drag it slow, feel the warmth of his breath. you hook it slightly, pulling at his bottom lip.

his eyes open then, a little dazed. they’re full of love and fear all at once.

“we stick to the plan,” he murmurs, continuing your conversation from just moments ago.

you nod, but it’s small. your thumb still rests at his mouth. “we look out for her,” you say.

“but we look out for each other first,” he adds. “you and me. always.”

your eyes flick up to meet his, “forever.”

you press your forehead against his. you close your eyes. you won’t lose him. you let yourself believe it, even if it’s only for tonight. you just breathe together. it’s one of the only things left that’s still yours, and you lie there with him for what feels like forever.

his fingers curl lightly against the fabric of your shirt at your waist. he’s grounding himself in you.

you trace another circle along the line of his shoulder, not even realizing you’re doing it. his skin is warm. and when you speak, it comes quiet.

“were you . . . there the day that guy tried to steal the whip from a peacekeeper during the summer ceremony when we were younger?”

rafe hums. “what?” he asks, turning his head slightly to look at you, brows already raising.

you smile faintly. “you know. the district’s spring-to-summer celebrations? i don’t remember what year it was but it was back when they used to give us those tiny sugar cones and let us throw rings at bottles for prizes. i was probably eleven? twelve? and some idiot tried to grab the peacekeepers belt whip during the parade like he thought he could just . . . take it and run.”

rafe laughs through his nose with you, head tipping back into the pillow. “i, like . . . barely remember that.”

“yeah, but they chased him through the crowd ‘n some of the cones melted onto the ground. i mean, i lost my shoe.”

there’s a crooked smile on his face. “that just sounds like something from a bad dream.”

“i know.” you snort, then your voice softens.

rafe watches you, his expression tilting somewhere more thoughtful. “but yeah,” he says after a beat, “i was there. i remember it.”

you grin, “do you?”

he nods. “i remember the guy. he tripped on a stone planter and the peacekeeper almost face-planted trying to catch him. i was with my sisters. sarah spilled juice on my shirt. the peacekeeper was my dad.”

you can’t help but laugh, a real one this time, and you almost spring up in a burst of energy, “that was your dad?”

“yeah, that was the same day, same sugar cones.“

you both go quiet again. you don’t mean for your smile to fade, but it does. your fingers slide back to his cheek, thumb pressing lightly near the corner of his mouth.

“i wish we met sooner,” you whisper.

rafe furrows his brow a little, confused by the softness of it. “what do you mean?”

you look down, tracing a faint line down the side of his neck. “i don’t know. i just mean . . . i wish it had been different, all of it, and us. i wish we didn’t meet the way we did.”

he squints a bit. “what, like at the reaping?”

you nod once and hum. rafe’s quiet for a moment before he shifts onto his elbow, propped up slightly now so he’s looking down at you, and there’s something strange in his expression.

“that wasn’t the first time i met you.”

you blink, and your heart stutters. “what?”

he just watches your face, lips curling slow. “i mean it. it wasn’t the reaping.”

you sit up a little, eyes narrowing as you study him. “wait, what are you talking about?”

“career academy. you started your first year when i was already a year in.” he scratches the back of his head, like he’s trying to piece it together himself. “i think it was one of the evaluation days? my class, we were all watching the first-years run drills and spar. and you were there.”

your chest tightens, “so you remember that? you didn’t— you never told me?”

“i never needed to!” he laughs, then continues, “like i didn’t even think about it until now. but yeah, i saw you around.”

you prop yourself up on your elbow to look at him properly. “see, what does that even mean? like we were in the same room? we trained together?”

he shakes his head. “nah. different years, remember? we barely crossed paths but i remember catching you during meal breaks sometimes, or walking across the sparring floor when they rotated classes.”

he pauses, a small smile breaking out. “you wore your hair in these two little braids back then,” he says. “and you had this bandaid on your knee for weeks. same one. you didn’t even try to change it.”

you stare at him, mouth falling open a bit. “shut up.”

“no, really,” he laughs. “i kept wondering if you were clumsy or just stubborn. like you refused to let it heal.”

you groan, falling back against the bed with an arm over your eyes. “this is so embarrassing. i was ten.”

he turns, leaning over you, resting his weight on one arm while the other plays with the edge of your shirt.

“what?” he grins. “i thought it was funny. you were always running like you didn’t know how to slow down. you were always the last one to sit during drills.”

you lower your arm and stare up at him. “so all this time . . .”

“it wasn’t like we knew each other,” he says. “like we were kids. we didn’t talk. it was just school.”

you sigh, but it’s not annoyed. it’s the kind of sound you make when you’re overwhelmed with something sweet. “why didn’t you ever tell me?”

he shrugs, eyes soft as he looks down at you, “i dunno. we never talk about stuff like this anymore.”

you frown and lift your hand again to press it to his chest, right over his heart. it beats slow beneath your palm.

“it’s not even in some fairytale, star-crossed, poetic way or whatever. it wasn’t even romantic,” he insist. “i just . . . remember.”

your throat tightens, and you close your eyes for a second like it’ll help you breathe through whatever this is.

you think about little you, training next door to him without even knowing. you think about the way life could’ve gone differently, or maybe always would’ve led to this. you and him. right here.

you open your eyes again and whisper, “maybe it is a love story.”

rafe nods once, his voice soft, “maybe it always was.”

“i think i would've fallen for you no matter what,” you admit. rafe’s fingers brush your hair back and you look at him.

“i know i did,” he mumbles, like it’s that simple. and it is. it’s always been that simple, even if the world never let it be. “i fell for you.”

you press your forehead to his again. you let it hurt, let it feel like something that deserves to be mourned already, just in case.

you don’t talk for a while after that.

you’ve been through so much together, and still, this feels like the real test. it’s not survival. it’s not rebellion. it’s not the hope of rescue from plutarch heavensbee and everyone who swears they have your backs.

the test is possibly leaving him behind, or him losing you.

and even if they save katniss and spark a revolution and finally break the cycle that keeps chewing kids up and spitting them back out in pieces, what good is any of it if rafe doesn’t make it through? if you don’t?

you trust the plan. you do. you trust haymitch and finnick and beetee and every rebel who’s betting their life on katniss everdeen being the symbol panem needs, but you also know the games.

you know the mutts, and the poisons, and the bottomless pits that open up out of nowhere and swallow you whole. you’ve seen how unpredictable gamemakers can be when they want to entertain. when they want to punish.

rafe must be thinking the same thing, because he exhales slowly, his hand smoothing over your hip, fingers slipping beneath your shirt just to feel skin.

you close your eyes. your throat is tight. “if we die in there,” you whisper, barely breathing the words, “none of this will matter.”

his hand stills. “we won’t,” he says, not like a promise, more like a decision.

you nod, but your eyes sting. it’s hard not to let the thoughts spiral so you blink fast, trying to hold it in, but your eyes glisten anyway.

his hand slides to the side of your face, thumb brushing under your eye. “hey,” he murmurs. “we’re gonna get out. you and me. i promise you that, no matter what it takes.”

you shake your head like you want to believe it, but your bottom lip wobbles anyway, and he tries to pull you closer to hold you, but instead, you kiss him.

you lean in and find his mouth with yours, just needing to feel him, and then it deepens. your fingers clutch at the side of his shirt and his hand moves to the back of your head, pulling you in tighter. the kiss turns into something else. something desperate. something like: if this is the last time, then let it be everything.

he rolls with you, over you, above you, but never losing contact, your legs tangling up again as your hands push up beneath his shirt to feel his stomach, his ribs, his back, every inch of him you can still touch. your mouths crash again, like you're trying to memorize each other through mouths, through skin, through gasps.

you shift, moving to straddle him, your thighs bracketing his hips. his hands land hard at your waist, holding you there as your mouths meet again, deeper this time. his grip tightens as you press your forehead to his, both of you breathing hard.

you want to say something, anything, but words don’t work here. not when his hands are under your shirt now, palms dragging along your spine, feeling every thorn, every scar, every old bruise like he knows them better than he knows himself.

you lean in, press a kiss to the edge of his jaw, then his neck. his breath hitches.

your hands slide down, slipping under his shirt, your fingertips grazing his v-line before you hook the fabric with your fingers and start lifting it over his head. he breaks the kiss only long enough to let you pull it off, and then he’s on you again.

your mouths meet in a slow crash, mouths open, tongues brushing, and it’s like everything unravels at once, but you don’t speak. you just let your hands roam, let your kisses deepen, let yourself feel everything.

and when your fingers slip down to the hem of your own shirt and start to pull it over your head, rafe watches you with a kind of reverence like he’s memorizing you. or like he’s mesmerized by you.

you drop the shirt to the floor, and he pulls you in again, arms wrapping tight around your back, lips on yours before either of you can break. and this time, he kisses you like a vow.

@nicholaschavezslut69 @iissza @snowtargaryen @yootvi @sukunasmuse @spideysimpossiblegirl @skyslowalking @adribarbie @obsessionsarenotfortheweak @0-tatiana-0 @beebeerockknot @rafestar @drewstarkeyzwhore @drewsephrry @annaconscience @writtenbyhollywood @yourtypicalteenagegirl @daisydark @v4mpscrms @issahruiz @ilovefictionallmenn @derpjungkook @vanessa-rafesgirl @sunny1616 @alphabetically-deranged @nrmlgirl @supercxnt @xoxosblogsblog @rafegetinmybed @siyahmoonlight @livie4lifestarkeyblyth @d-daxx @tsumudoll @ogcrashout @jjasmiineee @loverliner @ailimedae @belle101200 @hiimbrina @nomup @ayy1234567 @girxwrp @k4yr14 @amterasuu @theteenagementality @maggscr @hey-you22w @delilah22pbp @hayleynott @silkenthusiasts ++

[ckret2]

CULT LEADER AT 14 ?? WHY WASN'T EUCLIDEAN CPS CALLED IM CRYING /Rhetorical, but I am genuinely curious. Kids/teens are smarter than people assume and his actions are his own, but he's barely a teenager at this point. Unless there's some law added to the story (which I doubt) the logical conclusion I've come to is that his parents just scared any case workers off lmao. The real CPS has a habit of being useless, especially in cases similar to Bill's, with little (or hidden) physical abuse/neglect. Also you can get them to leave by telling them to. Not ideal.

For the same reason the CPS wasn't called on Gideon for having a burgeoning cultlike fandom over his child psychic routine.

The CPS isn't called in over child performers—child movie stars, child TV actors, child singers. The CPS isn't called in over kid influencers on family vlogger channels with millions of viewers. The CPS isn't called in over child preachers, child healers, child psychics. Even when they really, really should be.

(There's been some high profile criminal cases over child abuse on family vlogs lately—but every story about a family like that being held responsible for abuse is a story about how long they got away with it without anybody doing a thing.)

Bill's parents did spiritually-themed speaking engagements. They started bringing their kid on stage with them—how adorable, a family act!—and he did a cute little child psychic routine, he could go up to strangers and tell them their names, he could tell them what was in their wallets, he knew details about their medical histories—sometimes details THEY didn't know yet. ("congratulations, do you have a name for the baby yet?" "a name for the what?" "whoops! ... do you want me to spoil what shape it'll be?")

What harm is there in a family that does public speaking letting their child join in on the performance? He's talented, popular, seems to be having fun.

They're more successful, they do more shows, he's performing a larger proportion of the shows. Well, sure, of course he is, the audience loves his parts. He's very charismatic. Charming, engaging, enthusiastic. Who would tell him to stop? He's so enthusiastic about participating. He's even started preaching some—very spiritual stuff, the details are a little muddy but hey, he's young, but he's compelling and it's clear he believes this stuff and he's doing such good work spreading hope and positivity to their audience.

He's missing some school to travel for speaking engagements, but hey, he's still doing well enough to make it to the next grade, and when he's clearly found his passion so young wouldn't it be a shame to coop him up and make him hide his light under a barrel?

When his parents are interviewed they talk about what a gift their golden child is and how they're awed by his talents and grateful to have him in their lives. When he's interviewed he talks about how much he loves speaking to audiences, making that little connection with so many of them, how he's so happy to see how happy they are when he comes on stage. He talks about how he'd love to have a radio show or do international tours someday. He wants to reach as many people as possible.

He's now doing the majority of the speaking—because he has such a talent for it, because the audiences come to hear him, because they like what he's saying and want to hear more of it, and he's eager to oblige.

After middle school they announce that he's "switching to home schooling" to make more time for speaking—and what's wrong with that? Lots of child performers with demanding schedules find creative ways to fit their schooling around their concerts or filming or shows or speaking engagements or whatever it is they do.

Anyone who's close enough to him to know he's dropped his education altogether is close enough to him that they're in on the con, so they're not gonna do anything about it. Who could imagine that a kid that well-spoken could be uneducated. Nobody in his audience is standing up to challenge the child psychic to prove he knows how to do algebra.

His mother dies, very tragic. The family withdraws for a little bit; then they're back on the road, saying that's what his mother would want for him. They do a brief little tribute to her at shows. He says that she's speaking to him from beyond. If you believe in the things he professes to believe, it's very very sweet.

If you don't believe, this is a red flag. But goddamn, "I don't believe in that family's religious beliefs" is NO grounds to investigate a family.

He starts getting combative with people who try to criticize him. That's not too weird, he's a teenager, it's not a sign of abuse, just immaturity. He can't always be the perfect angel he is on stage—and by god, if some snotty scientist is trying to undermine his spiritual claims, he SHOULD get mad! The kind of people paying close attention to him are the kind of people who believe in him. When he gets mad, he's expressing their collective righteous anger. They're on his side.

Rumors start spreading about him sneaking out to parties and getting trashed way too young. It sounds like a bunch of slander, it's just rumors, somebody's trying to undermine the reputation of this fine young triangle. Anyway, even if it's true, "nearly-adult teen is sneaking out to party and coming home drunk" isn't a sign of abuse, that's a thing kids do. That's a problem for his father to address, not the government.

Nobody outside of his immediate family learns about his uncle's death at one of his shows.

By the time this young triangle's dangerously incandescent temper has built up to the point that it starts to dominate his reputation and the public knows how vitriolic he is, he's legally an adult. There's no grounds for an investigation. He can't be taken away from his father, his father lives in his house. He's bringing in the money, he's calling the shots, and he has been for years.

So, take all that: "Why wasn't the Euclidean CPS called?"

Why would they be?

Even if they were, all a case worker would have found is a tightly-knit family that doesn't have a single bad word to say about each other to outsiders, and a home filled wall to wall with their son's accolades—news articles, trophies, pictures.

[guesswhoitsn]

Netflix and Chill

Themes: Fluff Pairing: Paige X Azzi TW: Swearing, Suggestive Content Words: 518 Let's get back into writing shall we LMAO , this is my first time writing on tumblr so please tell me if anything is messed up grammar/formatting wise!

_ "Netflix and chill, huh?" The teasing coming from the curly haired brunette is what makes Paige side-eye her best friend after giving back the microphone to the interviewers with a 'thanks' as they walk away. The hallway seeming much emptier without the interviewers and extra media attention. "Don't even, you said the exact same thing as me, Az." The blonde can't help the grin that shows on her face, blue eyes locking with crinkling brown ones. "I said it because you said it." Azzi nonchalantly shrugs, shoulder rubbing against Paige's as the duo continues their walk side by side. Their conversation slightly hushed despite being the only ones around. "Uh huh, Miss, hard is more satisfying." Paige allows her grin to grow once the flush of her girlfriend's cheeks begins to brighten, tanned skin showing a fair amount of rose tint to it. "What was that all about?" Paige continues with a husk, teasing the younger girl more as she moves to intertwine their hands, bringing Azzi's up to ghost her lips across the back of her hand. "What? Hardcovers, are more satisfying to me." The emphasis that Paige hears from the other only solidifies her belief that, that was not at all what Azzi was referencing and with a small shake of her head and laugh, Paige tightens her grip on the others hand softly, smirking when she feels Azzi lean more into her as they walk. "Guess lucky you, you don't ever have to try and deal with something soft." The innuendo is clear as the older girl speaks, earning a slight shove her best friend which just sparks her laughter more. Paige barely stumbles before she's back in her prior position, standing tall as Azzi leans into the other. As the music begins to become louder, and the end of the hallway comes into view, Paige starts to let go of the other's hand, reluctantly beginning to maintain the role of best friends once again for the crowd around them. However she freezes once she feels a tug on her hand, Azzi keeping the two limbs intertwined as Paige turns around towards her, eyebrow raised before blinking when she feels the quick peck of lips against hers. With a taste of her own medicine, Paige's own cheeks light up a much brighter red against her pale skin, Azzi's own dimpled grin shows as the younger lets go of their intertwined hands, walking past the taller blonde. "W-What was that for?" Paige gets out as she starts to move again, staying by the other's side as they begin to enter the concert venue, heart speeding up not only due to the blaring music and atmosphere as she knew right now, that was the last thing on her mind. "I don't know what you're talking about." Azzi states simply, hands folding behind her back before the two reunite with her own mother and family, the brunette missing the way that her girlfriend's eyes had never left her back until Usher began preforming his second song. Don't let that girl fool you, Azzi fudd, was a menace.

[beansprean]

My Familiar’s Ghost part 83

Can you tell I wrote this one while job hunting lmao

Masterpost Masterpost 2

See the latest pages on Patreon!

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1. Shoulders up of vampire Guillermo on the library couch, looking down at his clipboard and lifting up the top page, which is covered in red marks. He mutters, 'Ok, who's next?' Offscreen, Nandor replies 'That was the last one.' Guillermo whips his head up toward Nandor in surprise and says 'Really?! I guess we'll have to keep looking...' 2. High angle view of them sitting on the couch together, Guillermo primly upright with his knees together and clipboard held on his lap, Nandor slouching with one arm on the back of the couch and the other waving his clipboard in the air. He scowls at Guillermo and says, 'What?? We just interviewed like 50 people and you did not like any of them?' Guillermo responds tightly, eyes closed, 'I'll know the right familiar when I see them.' 3. Front shot, waist up, of both on the couch. Nandor looks over at Guillermo and asks, 'Why not Sky? They speak in tongues just like you do.' Guillermo sighs tiredly, scribbling something on his clipboard, and replies, 'Ugh, too eager. She'd always be underfoot.' 4. Repeat. Nandor grins and teases, 'As I said, just like you.' Guillermo scrunches up his face and glares at him from the corner of his eye. 5. Close up of their clipboards side by side. Guillermo's has every name crossed out in red pen. Nandor's has some crossed out and some circled in blue pen, but most of the blank space is filled with little doodles of swirls, cool S, horses, swords, and dicks. Nandor asks, 'What about Marshall? He had an impressive resume. Guillermo counters, 'Too impressive. Clearly he's not interested in long-term placement.' Nandor tries again, 'Then, Sarah-' Guillermo emphatically says 'No.' 6. Shoulders up, Nandor slightly in the foreground. He appears to be getting frustrated as he sighs and furrows his brow at his clipboard, slumping forward. He says, 'Devin Simmons was pretty charming...' Guillermo rolls his eyes up to the ceiling and throws his hands palm up, snapping, 'That was Simon the Devious!' 7. Repeat, Nandor popping out of frame. Guillermo returns his attention to scribbling on his clipboard and says, 'No, we're just going to have to start from scratch...' Nandor turns toward him and rolls his eyes, baring his fangs as he snaps 'Guillermo, you are being ridiculous!' /end ID

[bambi-kinos]

Hi! I've read in your recent post: "But I do believe that his entire life starting from the inception of the Beatles is based on lies -- mostly the lies that he tells himself, about himself." Could you please elaborate more on this subject? What lies he tells himself, about himself? Sorry, if you've already posted something about it, I haven't checked all the posts.

Paul's supposed "heterosexuality." He's used it as a shield for decades at this point, so many of his interviews are him insisting that he only had sex with women, as if anyone was going to question that after all this time. He's gone through quite a journey over the years with that one. He may have thought/currently thinks that it's for the people interviewing him but the truth is that it is for himself.

In that original post where I mentioned the lies he tells himself, it was about Jane Asher and Paul having her at his birthday party. I always think of this photo and how utterly miserable he looks lmao.

There are a few photos of Paul and Jane smiling together but they are surprisingly rare compared to the plethora of photos where Paul is standing next to her looking stone faced. Then when you compare this to Paul's reminiscing about Jane and the Asher family in The Lyrics (which wow, came out 4 years ago now, how time flies!) and it's clear that Paul wasn't all that interested in Jane. And at this point he had plenty of groupies and could get dates with plenty of women who worked in entertainment. So in the aftermath of Barcelona and after Paul prowled Tenerife like he'd been jilted, Paul is suddenly eager to be publicly seen with a woman and at a party where there's a lot of other people between him and John...uh huh...okay....

I think that Paul certainly felt a (warranted) pressure to present himself as heterosexual and that he was reeling from John screwing him over with Barcelona. Not just by the betrayal of hooking up with Brian but that John screwed him by ratifying the "Lennon-McCartney" name order when John had already agreed to switch things around to "McCartney-Lennon" if the song had been Paul's primarily.

So here's what I think Paul was lying about, to himself: that he could be heterosexual if he just gave up the John Lennon thing; that he could keep a woman like Jane in reserve Just In Case; that by keeping women in reserve he always had an escape hatch just in case this Beatles thing didn't work out.

No matter what Paul feels internally he really wants to project that image of immovable heterosexuality. He didn't want to disappoint his father. He didn't want to be investigated by the police and put in jail. He was raised with the idea that homosexuality was diseased and wrong and that the people who practiced it had something wrong with them. No matter what he felt for John or how clear he was on it, there was still tension and fear inside him. Hence his habit of worming his way into ready made families like a cuckoo kicking other chicks out of the nest.

When I wrote that original post I was thinking that Paul was lying about his homosexual feelings but now I think it's bigger than that. I think he's constructed an entire cathedral around himself so that no one suspects anything about him and John and what they meant to each other and how this may impact Paul's relationships with other men.

Paul often speaks about how he feels dualistic and is frequently at war with himself which he attributes to being a Gemini. He's used to holding two disparate and dueling natures inside himself. I think that this is the basis for the kind of dual lifestyle he was leading.

On one hand he was just Paul who was John's partner in more ways than one, their relationship hanging on a series of fragile promises that were just barely in reach but were becoming frighteningly real. This is the closest he's come to baring his true self to a different person at this point.

On the other hand he was Beatle Paul, a newly minted star about to become the center of the biggest fame storm in history, and his bandmate just kicked off a potential controversy by going to Spain with their out of the closet gay manager. Beatle Paul is immovably heterosexual and a ladies man.

And that is how you get a dualistic man whose sense of identity and self is completely split in two. I think Paul is now at a point where he doesn't have to do this anymore but when he was a young man he had to tell himself all sorts of lies just to get through the day and then had to project a construct for the media and fans to look at.

[serqphites]

VICTORIA NEUMAN X ASSISTANT!READER

format: blurb

warnings: nsfw content at the end

word count: 700+

not proofread! y/n used!

- the second you came in for your interview she pretty much decided she was hiring you LMAO

- now i’m not saying she only hired you because of her crush, because your resume genuinely caught her eye, but i’m also not saying it had nothing to do with it 🤷‍♀️

- she definitely asks you to do things she could easily do just as an excuse to see you

- “y/n! can you come here please?”

- “can you pick up this pen i dropped please? i’ve got suchhh a bad back” she’s so dramatic i love her

- you honestly think she’s just being a bitch and she’s messing with you

- that is until one day she comes to you in the morning, saying today she only has one task for you

- “will you eat lunch with me?” and she has the dorkiest smile of all time on her face

- lunch together becomes a regular thing, going from talking about your favourite tv shows to her telling you about her daughter zoe

- she’s so sad when you eventually tell her you thought she was just like every person you’ve ever worked for, just messing with you for the fun of it

- “no no never! i could never do that, especially not to you” OOOOOO it’s blush city for you both

- things are going great! you love your job. that is until something changes, and victoria randomly stops asking you to do things for her

- i mean you’re her assistant, shouldn’t you be getting her coffee? shouldn’t you be organising her files? shouldn’t you be having lunch with her and not hughie?

- to say this has you down is an understatement, you can’t seem to understand why she has randomly shut you out

- it’s not like she’s not speaking to you, she’s still asking you to do things but they’re all tasks that require you to be away from her. you haven’t even been in her office for nearly two weeks now

- after your hurt builds and builds, you can’t hold it in anymore. you storm into her office demanding to know why she’s avoiding you

- she plays it dumb at first but she knows what she’s been doing so she fesses up

- “fuck… i’m sorry, so sorry. it’s not you i promise, it’s me. i- i like you, okay? like a lot and i know it sounds stupid and i know it’s sooo inappropriate because you’re my assist-“ SILENCED BY A KISS WOOOO

- you’re discrete about it at first, sneaking around and making out in the bathroom stalls like you’re high schoolers

- her bringing you lunch everyday<3

- she so leaves post-it notes on her desk with cute lil messages whenever she has to leave for meetings because it’s where she tells you to just relax

- you don’t bother asking why you’re not allowed to meetings that involve voughts CEO, it’s probably just a confidentiality thing right?

- a bit random but whenever you’re standing talking to somebody i feel like she’d just squeeze your butt?

- canon she’s a butt squeezer

- you don’t fight much but oh boy is your schedule full when you do

- she gives you the stupidest tasks she can think of LMAO

- “can you walk someone’s dog please?” “someone’s dog?” “yeah, just go around asking who has a dog that needs walking” “are you being serious, vic?” “yes i most definitely am, it would help me soooo much you have no idea!”

- I LOVE HER SO MUCHHH

- dating your boss can be annoying at times, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world <3

NSFW TIMEEEE

- officesex!officesex!officesex!

- this honestly deserves its own blurb if i'm being honest

- i feel like she's already dominant in bed anyways but because she’s your boss it’s elevated TO THE MAX.

- “i have one really special task for you today, so listen closely”

- you can barely stay stood up with how weak your knees go (real)

- “i need you to be a good girl for me, how does that sound? you think you can do that for me?” in her husky voice im DECEASED

- one time she cleared her desk by pushing everything on the floor, she immediately regretted it when she realised she had broken almost everything

- “i always see people do it in movies and this doesn’t happen” she’s so upset while she’s picking up a broken picture of you both on the beach

- she’s so silly

- she definitely buys you lingerie to wear underneath your work clothes 🤭

- the amount of flirty texts she sends you during the day just to watch you blush uncontrollably is concerning (when is it my turn)

a/n: requests are always open, hope you enjoyed :)

[ivynajspyder]

I have been meaning to translate the voice actor interviews that came with the Kirby blu-rays, but real life is killing me.

In the meantime, some tidbits

The vibe overall was super fun and chill. Everyone recorded in one room together, and would go out to eat after and even go on trips together. Everyone has a lot of fond memories of working on the show!

Kenichi Ogata (Dedede) calls Naoki Tatsuta (Escargon), "Tacchan". Naoki calls him Kenichi-senpai

Kenichi adores the character of Dedede and how he can be villainous but also cute. He and Naoki would often ad lib silly things as their characters just as stress relief because Naoki jokes he could barely keep up.

Kisaichi Atsushi (Meta Knight) says he was often nervous, and once when he was having trouble keeping up the "cool voice" for longer scenes, the voice director told him "try harder" lmao

He also can't get over MK being round. So round. "Sharp, but round. Cool, but round"

Makiko Ohmoto (Kirby) says Kirby isn't really speaking aloud when he transforms and says attack names, but it's more "the voice of his heart". She wanted to give that voice more of a teenager feel.

When singing as Kirby, she goes "three octaves higher" to make it even more ear piercing lol, and really enjoyed being Devil Kirby.

[relax-and-read-on]

"The most indulgent fics are self insert-" wrong.

"Actually it's anything omegaverse-" Wrong.

"Lmao, it's actually a fucknasty crossover with a self insert-" I said Wrong.

"It's incest mpregnation pisskink puppyplay with a dash of forcefem-" all of you are WRONG.

The most indulgent fic would be a masterchef au, 2012 era. With gifs and pictures of the food.

75% of the fic is me intricatly describing cooking techniques and delicious plates. There are links to actual cooking tutorial, like how to do a Sabayon. And then! There are gorgeous, high quality pictures of all those delicious meals. One of the judge ~~Malc-- is french and speak exclusively in that language. There is no translation. It's written as if it's the transcript of Masterchef, so you only get to see the interviews of the characters with dramatic question and the manufactured drama. Mortarion got casted as the Singular Vegetarian on the show, and someone is the villain of the season. Konrad is always on the verge of being elliminated but pull through. There is a lobster episode. Lorgar has to miss an episode or two because he got a nasty cut and bleed everywhere. Somehow, I decide to draw again and make a few fake screenshot of the show. Someone make cinamon buns on a challenge that involved sweetbread. I spend 2000 words describing the process of making a Baked Alaska, by Rogal dorn.

It would be 60k long and absolutely terrible. The ships would barely be hinted at. Horus and Sang would make the worst food analogy to talk about sex. Lion would have a "please for fuck sake stop talking about sausage" moment.

That, is true indulgence. Free of cringe, ready to make the most obtuse and unreadable fic that only your unhinged self would enjoy.

[lullabyes22-blog]

In FnF, Silco spent a long time with Sevika and Nandi. You've mentioned he used to visit the Equinox Bazaar and haggle with the vendors. Does Silco speak Vekauran? How many languages besides Va-Nox can he speak? Also I'd love to know how you picked out the languages each character uses!

<3

I based all the languages in FnF on RL equivalents (as does League to an extent - Va-Nox is literally described as "German spoken through a mouthful of mashed potatoes" lmao).

In FnF, the most common language spoken in Zaun is the Piltovan dialect.

i.e Standard,

i e. English.

It is the common language of both cities, and used widely for trade overseas as a commercial lingua franca. Zaun, meanwhile, has its own unique patois in League lore, so I built upon that to create a sort of a fluid vernacular that borrows from different languages/dialects/slangs/syntax in FnF. (A little modern netizen jabber, a little Victorian slang, a little Mancunian, a little Roaring 20s etc)

With that in mind, I decided to base Vekauran on Hindi (given it's the home of champions like Akshan, who is pretty Bollywood-inspired in his look). Nandi and Sevika both grew up speaking Vekauran at home. But they don't have the same amount of exposure to the language; Nandi is described as having an accent when she speaks in Standard (I headcanon her as sounding similar to the actress Ashwarya Rai in this interview). After she lost her hearing, she still retained those speech patterns, having been so enmeshed in that community (folks can still have an accent even if they're hearing-impaired because they'll focus on vocal patterns and mouth movements of others around them and can retain the accent as a result).

Sevika, on the other hand, speaks fluent Standard with zero accent, but is deeply rusty at Vekauran, having run in completely different circles. Her grammar's a bit off. She struggles with the pronunciation of certain words. She can curse up a storm, but she can't do formal greetings, honorifics or small talk to save her life. Poor woman understands more than she can speak.

(Very much a third gen immigrant vibe - and it causes her no small amount of distress because her sister was the Priestess, a storyteller, poetess, and a master of the old tongue, so she feels she has to measure up to the legacy.)

Silco grew up speaking Standard, Va-Nox and Ur-Nox. His mother was from a Noxus-colonized settlement in Ionia, so she spoke that tongue at home, and could barely read or write in Standard. Also they lived in an area full of other Va-Nox-speaking families (Vander's mom was also from a nearby region, so the boys literally shared a common language and bonded over that) and it was a pretty insular community.

Silco's father was of old Oshra va'Zaun stock and spoke Ur-Nox (the ancient precursor to Va-Nox, so similar to Middle German in FnF). He was a Riverman by trade, but well-educated as his family had been part of the intelligentsia and the merchant elite before the Cataclysm. He was the one who taught Silco his letters and made sure he knew his history. After Silco entered the orphanage, he was exposed to a wide array of dialects, so picked up a smattering of everything along the way. In Holle Correctional Facility, his warden, Jonah Lascelles, spoke East Demacian (French in FnF) as well as sign language, so Silco, for three years, was immersed in that dialect, learning both at the same time. He was a fast mimic with a near-uncanny ear for accents. After moving Topside for his stint in the Academy, he picked up the Piltovan manner of speaking (and learnt to mask his working-class accent).

By the time he was a grown man, he was a code-switching chameleon who could pass as a businessman in the streets or a thug in the sheets.

However.

He can't, for the life of him, master Vekauran. Those 'R's roll too much. The consonants pop like bubble wrap. The 'D's are weird. He's got no ear for it, and that frustrates the shit out of him because Nandi could get very expressive and animated (especially in bed), and he had no idea what she was saying half the time.

("Is she cursing? Is she sighing sweet nothings? Is she singing me a nursery rhyme? What?")

("Hush," Nandi says, seeing his confusion and peppering his face with kisses. "I'll teach you.")

(It never happens, alas.)

By this stage in FnF, he can hold a basic conversation with Sevika, and his understanding is passable. His speech patterns are hella stiff, his gramma's off, and the pronunciation is your equivalent of the typical Brit with a very, very posh accent ordering a chicken curry at a Leicester Tipu Sultan.

(Sevika thinks he sounds like a complete twat. But it's kinda cute how hard he tries, so she tolerates it. For a while. )

He does have a favorite Vekauran curseword tho.

"Bhenchod" - lit. "Sister-fucker" in Hindi.

First time he heard Sevika use it, he nearly choked on his whiskey.

On the whole, he speaks Standard as a native, in addition to Va-Nox and Ur-Nox (but his diction is nowhere near as sublime as, say, Mel's), fluent East Demacian, passable Vekauran, and very rapidfire sign language. He's conversant in basic Drekkenian (Czech), a bit of old Shuriman (Classical Latin), South Shuriman (Egyptian Arabic/Masri) and knows a handful of Vastayan phrases (it's just eldritch hisses and growls). The core Ionian languages (Sintic IRL) all sound the same to him.

He can't tell the difference between any of them, so he doesn't bother. That's what Ran and Maven (his translators) are for.

Disclaimer: I speak none of the aforementioned languages besides German and sign language, so I apologise if anything's off.

Share your own language headcanons in the comments. I'd love to read them.

<333

[genericpuff]

Lore Olympus will be officially ending in 2024.

While this is vague both in Rachel's responses (as always) and the actual specific timeline, considering this is the final 'arc' and most of Rachel's arcs rarely go any longer than 12-15 episodes, I have the sneaking suspicion she's going to try to wrap this up by March/April. That's just a prediction, mind you, it could just as well go on throughout the entire year of 2024.

That said, it's wild to see it finally confirmed, like a weight has finally been lifted of our shoulders. Many of us have been speculating on it for a while now that LO would undoubtedly get dragged out as it's Webtoon's golden goose and clearly Rachel's lifeline to the industry.

Lore Olympus has been a part of my life since 2019, and an even larger part of it in the last year and a half when I joined the critical community. It's going to be weird to live in a world where LO just doesn't update.

Of course, as mentioned in the article, there's still the matter of the physical books which are still FAR behind the webtoon version, and the TV show which they swear is still happening (but we all know it's not happening lmao).

So I don't think this will be the end of WT milking it for all its worth, but I am interested to see what happens to WT when they don't have their golden goose on a leash and chain anymore. They've sunk so much money and priority ad space into LO that even other Originals creators can't stand the comic due to how much its undercut their own opportunities. I'm hoping this will be a wake-up call to WT to give more attention to their series that are struggling and deserve to be seen, rather than focus all of their attention into one series that's barely got a pulse to speak of.

Of course, I'm sure people are wondering, "What about the fandom communities? What about antiLO/ULO?"

Listen, this isn't the first fandom I've taken part in, though it's certainly the one I've been the most directly active in with the essays I write and the stuff I do through Rekindled.

But if being in fandoms has taught me anything, it's that it doesn't matter how long a series has been gone. If there are people who still love it - or love to hate it - taking part in discussion, that discussion will continue to thrive. A series existing in hindsight is just as much a reason for participation as an active series existing in the present day. If anything, a series falling into the realm of 'hindsight' can give us the room we need to sit and reflect on what the series actually did, and what we were left with in the end. It's never stopped the folks who still talk about long-ago-completed series like The Office, House M.D., and Avatar: The Last Airbender.

So if you're new to the LO critical community, or asking yourself if it's still going to be "worth it" to take part in the fandom after LO is done - it's as worth it as you make it. There will always be something worth discussing in this fandom if we're wanting to discuss it.

As for me, well... I'm just getting started.

[azaharinflames]

Some 806 spec, because these next two weeks, my God...

Forever thankful to Tim for not leaving us with a cliffhanger, but now I'm just lost as to what will happen in 806. We have no clues, other than whatever happens has to do with Tommy's past. We know Buck will spiral a little bit and will seek help from Bobby as well as from Maddie. And once he's talking with her, Josh will intervene and probably give Buck a nice perspective.

(side note: I think it's very telling it is Josh the one to talk with Buck, who is a gay man around Tommy's age. I do believe he'll be there to be a friend for Buck, but also to give him some much-needed perspective that Bobby and Maddie simply cannot give him)

We know, again from Oliver's interviews, that 806 has Buck and Tommy learning some (uncomfortable) truths about each other (although this can very well be just Buck learning something about Tommy, the wording here is vague on purpose) and some things they need to navigate and get through.

We also know post 806 Buck faces change, and that there is a lot of possibilities for him. And I will be fully honest here, the use of the word 'possibilities' definitely made me wonder if BT were breaking up in ep 806 - and in a way, possibilities was talking about Buck's love life moving forward.

However.

Firstly, it might be just me, but I think it would be a bit weird to speak of an upcoming breakup as 'a lot of possibilities' for Buck. It can also apply to it, which is why I am worried, but it also sounds a bit odd.

Secondly, I remind myself every day that Oliver wants Buck to get off the hamster wheel. That he wants him to finally have a mature relationship that works through its issues and doesn't crumble at the first obstacle. To break BT up now would go against everything he's said lately.

More so, in those interviews, he also refers to these hurdles as something that makes their relationship deepen (when the interviewer says this it is not as a personal take, but saying -not verbatim- that Oliver has mentioned this).

Even more so, the way they were portrayed in 805 didn't scream doomed to me. They were shown as a solid new couple, still learning about each other but working as a pair. Their portrayal was entirely optimistic - even if Tommy was skeptical, he still took care of Buck and fully supported him. He was there for him even for the funeral of a mummy. This to say - if they suddenly broke up in 806 that would be an extreme whiplash for the GA, who has just seen an episode where BT is presented as a great couple with no evident issues.

And there is one more thing. This screenshot from an interview Oliver gave:

Again. Using fun to describe a breakup does not make sense to me. It would be very tone-deaf, and we know from the past that Oliver is very careful about the words he uses as well as the one. It wouldn't make sense, just like it didn't make sense when he described ep5 as fun, and that side of the fandom claimed he was breaking up with Tommy, or discovering a deep, dark secret.

So. All of this (sorry, extremely long, I know. 806 is killing me and we barely know a thing about it) to say...

I think Bucktommy will have the main SL for Buck (I think Eddie will have the main ep SL) during the episode... but I think something else happens. That they'll be okay, and then something turns things around for Buck.

And I think these changes that apparently affect Buck post-806 are not to do with Tommy, but with Buck as an individual. And I think it might have to do as his future as a firefighter.

I don't know. This felt like a big ramble lmao.

Let me know what you think so I know I'm not the only one losing their mind <3

[virginburial]

hi! could i request something with ethan x fem!reader (or gn, whichever makes you the most comfortable :)) where reader is this really like, wealthy kid at blackmore who’s part of the core four (but since she’s in it… maybe fab five? idk 😭 i suck at this) and she’s dating ethan and just loves to spoil him? i’m assuming he’s like a broke college student, and the whole group kinda jokes that’s she’s his sugar mommy lmao. if you’re not up for it, feel free to ignore this request! i love your work <3 can’t wait to read more of your writing, thank you so so much for sharing it with us!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ I so clearly saw Gossip Girl in my head I'm dead x-x but let me break down why this would absolutely work on Ethan

Ethan Landry CD mix!       .·:*¨༺♱༻¨*:·.

especially since I'm getting an old money-great Gatsby feel out of it, your family probably owns a company that's been around for generations, one of those Rockefeller/Vanderbilt types. the kind of family HBO writes hit dramas about. You weren't snobby about it but still carried yourself differently than all your peers (you knew you were hot shit). So when regular-schmegular middle-class suburban boy next door Ethan catches your eye, it is a shock to everyone, especially him.

Ethan barely had a job and was living off of loans, like everyone else. you noticed this when he nervously asked you out to Olive Garden and ate nothing but the free breadsticks and some soda. you felt bad; you could tell he wanted to impress you.

so you started bringing him coffee every time you walk to class together; "I can't hold your books and the coffee y/n-" "-just take the fucking latte, Ethan!" he was too humble to take your offerings, but soon, as your romantic relationship with him evolved, so did his acceptingness and gratitude. You two would go to the mall and whatever Ethan stared at for more than five seconds would be coming home with you. other times, you'd door-dash him food whenever he studied for hours on end, because you knew Ethan had the habit of focusing too much on his studies and forgetting to eat.

"dude! she's totally your sugar mommy." Chad would tease, or Mindy and Anika would comment about asking you for permission before he does anything; "Don't you need your momma's blessing before you do that?" It's a little annoying, but Ethan knows the truth; you loved to spoil him, and he loved being spoiled by you. you loved seeing how excited he gets over a pair of sneakers or some dinner, and he loved knowing that the person he loves thinks about him and what he liked. you're abundant, and you felt it was important to share that abundance with the ones you loved. speaking of, your relationship with Ethan reached a point where he was offered an internship within your family's business; which lead to the both of you heading back to the mall, helping Ethan pick which suit he should wear to the interview.

and, of course, Ethan is on his knees, eating you out in the dressing room because he is just so grateful. getting stains all over his button-up as your juices drip down his chin and run down his neck. whatever, you were going to buy it for him anyways.

       .·:*¨༺♱༻¨*:·.

buy me a coffee ૮⸝⸝> ̫ >⸝ ა

[incorrectbmthquotes]

Okay so I love bmth (NEX GEN AHHHHHHHHHHHH (it’s also my blog name =3)) but I only really know Oli. He’s awesome but I don’t know that much about the other band members so idk. Idek what im asking for. Rundown maybe? Idfk.

OH FUCK YES!!!!!!

I will try to make this as cohesive as possible, so bare with me

Okay, since you already know Oli, I’ll start with our silly, silly rhythm section first:

Matt Nicholls: Matt (he also goes by Mat too) is their drummer, pictured here with Oli and Tom (Oli’s little brother & BMTH’s old drum tech)

Matt is the funniest guy ever. He and Oli used to get CRAZY drunk together during the early days of bmth and since Sempiternal the two mellowed out but they’re still silly I promise. He used to be a huge aficionado for smoking weed but I’ll be honest he either just doesn’t talk about it anymore or doesn’t smoke anymore :-(… his most iconic moment: in Lads On Tour he was super drunk in the back of the bus and their friend Stokesy and Tom are asking him to retell a story about him stealing a forklift from a venue and driving it around (because Lee their guitarist dared him to 😭) and he made the mistake of saying “I driv’d it about” and it’s the funniest thing ever 😭😭😭 he also has pissed in the tour bus fridge by drunkenly mistaking it for the bathroom (on his birthday no less) and I love him. Agent of chaos this man is <3 OH ALSO!!! he has ADHD which is what got him into drumming in the first place and he’s so funny because in the earlier days of their band during conversations he didn’t want to have he would either walk away or just start playing drums really loud 😭

Matt Kean: Matt Kean is their bassist and is pictured here with Matt, for all intensive purposes I refer to him as Vegan because that’s his nickname to differentiate him from the other Matt in their band xD

Vegan, funniest fellow ever. He’s so quiet but god I love him. He’s so silly. His nickname is Vegan because his name is also Matt, but when he met the other guys their differentiation was that Vegan was…vegan and Matt was not (Matt was briefly vegan in the early 2000s but I believe he gave it up lmao). He is legitimately so so so underrated. When he first started playing shows with the band he used to play backwards with his back facing everyone to hide the huge smile he’d have while playing because he’d always wanted to be in a band and play music with people and he was just so overjoyed to be able to do that but it didn’t fit with their image to be happy and giddy so he’d hide it 😭😭😭 to me he’s like. Quiet guy with very little words but everything he DOES say in interviews does not miss. Funny as fuck for no reason. I love him forever. ALSO he has 2 cats named Koi and Kikui(? I’m saying this off the top of my head so it might be misspelled sorry) and they’re soooo cuteeee….i love u Mr Kean <3

Lee Malia: Lee is their guitarist! Here he is pictured with Vegan :3

Lee is so cute and also super super underrated!! He’s a crazy good guitarist and BMTH would not be the band it is without his insane playing…Lee’s super funny, he and Oli have been friends since they were kids and they used to go out to watch Jurassic Park in theaters together as kids 😭😭, he’s super super shy so he doesn’t say much on camera, but he’s so silly!! In Lads on Tour he side eyes Oli for trying to kiss Vegan and it’s fucking hilarious 😭, he also gets approached by a fan that doesn’t speak English and they mistakenly call his playing terrible instead of terrific and he gets so sad he’s like awh :( and lights up when the fan corrects himself ehehehe…Lee is so cute, I feel so bad I don’t know too much fun little facts about him in comparison to everyone else but I promise he’s a cutie!!!!

John Jones: JJ is their touring rhythm guitarist/ex tech (I believe he was one of their guitar techs? im not exactly sure tho xP) and has been their touring rhythm guitarist since Jona left the band in 2012, but has been with BMTH for years before that! Here he is pictured with Lee :3!

Honest to god I know the least about JJ out of everyone in BMTH, I am so sorry JJ lovers out there. All I do know is that he’s been in the band whether it’s been as their tech or as their touring guitarist for a very long time! He also is apparently super active on the BMTH subreddit, which is really cool that he interacts with the fans so much! I think he’s really cool and a very vital part of the band :-)!!! He has said before that he doesn’t particularly want to be an official member of the band, but he’s been touring with them for so long he might as well be xDD

AND NOW WE GET INTO THE EX-MEMBERS SEGMENT……WEEPS UNCONTROLLABLY

Jordan Fish: Jordan is their ex-Keyboardist/Producer, & he was in the band from 2012-2023! Here he is pictured w/ Oli and Matt :3

Jordan I miss you every day king…he was so funny and he contributed so much to the band…gah!!!! Jordan joined the band in 2012 when BMTH was looking for a different sound and found him as he was playing music for a band called Worship. He initially didn’t even wanna be in the band and just wanted to be their producer, but he got along so well with them that they were like what the fuck no be in our band you’re awesome we can’t do this music without you, so there he was. Musically, Jordan is legitimately the reason why everyone loves Sempiternal, and GOD his backup vocals on the entirety of That’s the Spirit…..god. But also, Jordan is so funny and him and Oli are like two peas in a pod. There’s one video of him completely drunk out of his mind at the Kerrang 2015 awards show and it’s the most hilarious thing ever he’s a silly drunk and was talking about the most random shit ever <3 also the making of Ludens video was so funny because they made Ludens in their hotel rooms and bc the wifi was so bad his program kept crashing and Jordan slowly became more and more insane about it every time it would crash and it was so funny 😭😭

Jona Weinhofen: Jona is their ex-rhythm guitarist! He was in the band from 2009-2012, here he is pictured with Matt, Vegan, & JJ! :3

Jona joined the band after their original guitarist Curtis left, they met him through mutual friends. Jona is Australian! He was in the band I Killed the Prom Queen before BMTH, and once he joined BMTH there was no going back !! God, musically Jona-era BMTH holds a very special place in my heart simply because of how well Jona and Lee worked together with their playing, and with Jona’s backup vocals on their songs as well! Jona is straight-edge and vegan, which is pretty cool!! Also, that last picture of him with JJ is him fitting in a baby harness, that is all <3

Curtis Ward: Curtis was their ex-rhythm/lead guitarist before Jona! He was in the band from the beginning in 2004 and left mid-tour in 2009, here he is pictured with Vegan :D

Honest to god, Curtis is also super underrated. Essentially, BMTH formed with Oli, Matt, Lee, Vegan, and Curtis. They made music and wanted to tour the world together and made all these promises to each other that they’d be a band no matter what. But then they started touring and Curtis started getting homesick, and started missing his girlfriend and all that stuff. And mid-tour after they were still celebrating the release of Suicide Season, Curtis just decided to leave the band. They all got really pissed off and all yelled at each other and so Oli started writing angry ass lyrics about him, which ended up becoming ‘Blacklist’ later on lool…after BMTH im not too sure what he got up to, I do know that he took up modeling! He’s a silly little emo boy that shredded on guitar and formed a great band but then left said band because touring got the best of him and he deserves so much better than the shit Oli and Matt gave him during TIAH-era bmth <3

And that is all!!! I hope that this answered some questions for you <333

Go forth and watch many BMTH interviews if you would like to learn more about them!!!!

But remember, always skip the first few seconds of Lads on Tour !!!!