#(I did not read the whole thing yet I just saw links and then accusing me of thinking they’re an asshole

[heylinfanclub]

:0 wow I’ve been ‘lashed out’ (not by much) at for not being tonally clear in my tags. Time to turn off all my asks. Just in case.

Re: oh it’s probably fine

[hero-israel]

sorry if this is a dumb question and i understand if you don't want to answer but do you have links to posts explaining why israel isn't an apartheid state? i swear i read posts like that on your blog before but i don't know how to refind them

Israeli Arabs have legal equality with Jews. Same restaurants, same pools, same seats on the bus, same voting rights. I would favorably compare the treatment of Israeli Arabs with that of any minority group in any country on Earth.

The West Bank has a military occupation, with (pretty fast) checkpoints and no right to vote about the government running that military. Military occupations are bad and some of us have been against this particular one for decades. The anti-occupation movement hasn't gotten anywhere, they've just been stuck. Being stuck in a military occupation for X more years doesn't make it apartheid, just like being stuck in a bad marriage for X more years doesn't make you divorced. Meanwhile, the 2020 Abraham Accords showed that multiple Arab states were willing to accept this unchanging status quo and deal with Israel as it is. Those two factors - the stagnant, unchanging nature of the occupation, and the clear loss of interest in the Palestinian cause - combined to have the latest crop of awareness-raising college interns at some shifty NGOs try to force change by abracadabra'ing together a new concept of "apartheid" that exists solely for Israel. And it is working, just like "Christ-killer" and "stabbed Germany in the back" worked.

In 2010, Human Rights Watch published an extremely critical report on Israel's occupation of the West Bank. Dragged them up one wall and down the other. Yet there was no accusation of "apartheid" there. In the report, page 33, they cited a lawsuit by the Association for Civil Rights in Israel that had said it was apartheid for the West Bank military occupation authorities to ban Palestinians from driving on Highway 443 after repeated firebombings / shootings against Israelis. The Israeli High Court ruled that it was inappropriate to ban Palestinians from the road, and it re-established their equal driving access - they have had it ever since. The court also said that the accusation of apartheid behind that now-ended ban was dishonest, because the security concerns were not based on race; there were and are no "Jewish-only" roads anywhere, even when WB Palestinians were denied road access, Israeli Arabs could and did drive there. The HRW 2010 report included a long summary of that finding, without challenge. As bad as they saw Israel, they agreed it wasn't apartheid.

Then in 2020 came the Abraham Accords, so while nothing at all had changed in the administration of the West Bank, in 2021 HRW said it actually was apartheid. It really is that simple. The most famous legal convention banning apartheid specifies that it is race-based. HRW instead went with a different legal convention on apartheid, one that says it could be based on national origin if it involves discrimination among citizens of the same country.... and then they up and added their own twist to that, saying they will consider it apartheid if there is discrimination based on national origin AMONG PEOPLE WHO AREN'T CITIZENS OF THE SAME COUNTRY. In a very real sense, HRW declared Mexico is an apartheid state because Americans can't vote in its elections.

In 2022, Amnesty International followed with their own report, saying that not only was the military occupation now "apartheid," but that Israel itself had been an apartheid state ever since it was established in 1948. This moral perversion had the effect of saying Israel literally INVENTED apartheid since in May 1948 it didn't even exist in South Africa yet. It also said that Amnesty International - founded 1961 - had been looking at an apartheid the whole time but never recognized it. To make things even more dishonest, Amnesty said they "are not claiming Israeli conditions are analogous to South Africa," meaning anything that shows how Israel is different from South Africa doesn't count. They're using the South African word for the South African policy but it's actually not like South Africa at all so be quiet, neener neener no backsies.

I shouldn't have to take that seriously. Neither should anyone. Palestinians and their advocates should be ashamed to have to lean on such an obvious bad-faith lie.

Nelson Mandela, who died in 2013, never once accused Israel of apartheid, and instead repeatedly said he supported Zionism and a 2-state solution. Mandela's lawyer, still alive, says the accusation is a lie. Mansour Abbas, leader of the Arab Islamist party that joined Israel's governing coalition in 2021, says the accusation is a lie. And if people want to bandy around NGO business cards, here is the International Committee of the Red Cross in 2017:

“The Red Cross was very familiar with the regime that prevailed in South Africa during the apartheid period, and we are responding to all those who raise their claim of apartheid against Israel: No, there is no apartheid here, no regime of superiority of race, of denial of basic human rights to a group of people because of their alleged racial inferiority. There is a bloody national conflict, whose most prominent and tragic characteristic is its continuation over the years, decades-long, and there is a state of occupation. Not apartheid.”

There's a lot more you can see about the shifty terminology, unreliable sourcing, and longstanding culture of antisemitism and racism within Amnesty International. People who can cite chapter and verse of why the Salvation Army, Autism Speaks, Chik-Fil-A and Harry Potter are problematic should not be shocked.

[esther-dot]

i'm a sansa stan first and foremost, and i tried to ship s@nsan so hard lmaooo but when they start saying shit like "sansa has wet dreams about the hound" and "sansa actually likes older men", argh, i just can't. do. that. i know george said something about playing with it in the books, but i also think that he wanted to raise a few questions with the relationship, one of them being "who protects sansa from her protector?". like, there's TRAUMA in there. it's funny that they accuse jonsas of using sansa as a self-insert bc i don't know if you ever read a s@nsan fic or saw the fanarts, but they REALLY wanna bang that man 😭

(about this ask)

Nothing in the fandom horrifies me as much as Sansan. I’ve had nice Sansans come into my inbox, so I do distinguish between my feelings about the ship and the shippers, but I hate the reinterpretation of the Hound because it minimizes what he did/tried to do to Sansa. Instead of the later scenes where Sansa thinks of him being about her processing the trauma of his assault, suddenly, they become a gross villain whitewashing, victim-blamey, “actually, she wanted it.”

I once even highlighted that whole "who will protect us from the guards" idea you mention because I think it was meant to emphasize what a travesty the Hound’s assault was:

(link)

This isn’t a romance, this is a pattern. The Hound saves her than tries to rape her, Tyrion is kind to her then agrees to marry her, a child, a prisoner of his family, and LF rescues her but then starts to sexually molest her. All the same, in each of these instances, Sansa is grateful, she thinks kindly of them, and I think that says a lot about Sansa that you completely miss if you romanticize it and pretend that the Hound is someone, something to her, that he isn’t. I also talk about the whole cloak thing in that post too because I think the more contextualized reading is the one we’re meant to adopt.

When I did take a look at the meta, I was so creeped out by the nature of it and the art. Although, I want to give credit where it’s due. Apparently they were some of the first people to start taking Sansa seriously and created the reading of Sansa becoming a political factor, so they did change the fandom’s perception of Sansa in a good way. But imo their love of the Hound causes an imbalance in how they read their scenes. The point isn't that the Hound wouldn't have hurt Sansa, the point was that he very well might have but Sansa's actions stopped him which ties into a much bigger idea and important aspect of Sansa's story:

Even after the Hound assaults Sansa, later, she thinks of how terrifying the fire was, as in, even then, she is able to empathize with him, the man who held a knife to her throat and threatened to kill her. It’s laughable to suggest a man who mocked her relentlessly for who she was is capable of the same consideration. In fact, it is in a state of terror that the Hound attempts to rape Sansa and his fans use that to excuse his actions, and yet, while he is assaulting her, Sansa sings of mercy, gently touches his cheek. It’s almost like the very obvious interpretation, that the way to create a better world is Sansa’s method— not his— is what Martin expected people to understand, and his surprise people have turned it into something else altogether is genuine. (link)

As for Martin admitting he "played" with it, here's a clip. It's very short, and he's expressing surprise that his female readers like villains of which the Hound is one, and I think you can tell by his facial expression that the idea of the Hound and Sansa as a couple, is absolutely not where he ever intended to take things, not what he meant when he said he played with it. There are countless old monster movies with the monster being fascinated with a young girl or beautiful woman which humanizes him/shows a soft side. That's similar to Beauty and the Beast, the girl is what allows the monster to become human again, but in these variations, it isn't a romance. You can play with/reference tropes and ideas without it actually being a direct reiteration of the original story.

Anyway, filter and block and curate your fandom experience! 😅

[saintmeghanmarkle]

I think I have cracked it hehe. by u/silentcw

I think I have cracked it, hehe. Scrolling through social media, I saw an article written by one of the usual websites I follow talking about Nostradamus, and his predictions. (Which technically stopped in 1999 according to the article)I dont usually read this sort of article, but I was interested to see what it said because I didn't know his predictions were this far into the future. So I opened the article to read, and there it was .... https://ift.tt/i21cLnv year(2023), predictions included everything from disaster on Mars to a "celestial fire on the Royal edifice", which Nostradamus-enablers took to mean a meteor could set Buckingham Palace on fire and force the King to live in one of his many other palaces, castles, or cottages.So I followed the link to last year's predictions, to find a practically copy pasted article with last years predictions inserted. https://ift.tt/E5ObUKA I scolled past the predictions of the antichrist, (clearly didn't happen or I wouldn't be here), the disaster on Mars and found the section about the Palace. *Buckingham Palace on firePutting the whole Harry and Meghan Netflix documentary in perspective, some outlets are saying that Nostradamus predicted that Buckingham Palace will be set on fire by an asteroid. The passage, written before Buckingham Palace was built, merely refers to a "celestial fire on the Royal edifice" though, so nothing for the royal family to sweat about just yet.*Now, since this year is basically done, I think it is safe to assume nothing major will come out of Buckhingham Palace, but it did make me think the worst thing that could have happened to them this year was "endgame" much like a meteor hitting the Palace, this has even been named "endgame' implying the end. Now I am being very sarcastic and suggesting could this have been read and some people assumed it could be true? Could they also have read the predictions for 2024 and started rubbing their hands in glee. *King Charles gets sackedIt looks like King Charles, the ultimate nepo baby, may not enjoy his new role for long. One passage in Nostradamus's long and deliberately vague works refers to a "King of the Isles" being "driven out by force". Another passage claimed to be about King Charles reads that "soon afterward [a disastrous war] a new King shall be anointed / Who, for a long time, will appease the earth."This has also been interpreted as referring to King Charles, who is apparently going to have a busy year of appeasing the Earth before being hounded from his palace for it.*So after endgame (the meteor) and the war (the attacks from Montecito and imagined slights from the Royals) Charles will be forced out for a new King to be anointed and appeas the earth for a long time. Could it have been predicted all this years ago? Harry and his wife are destined to be the new King and Queen as vague prophesy has said? Are we all just too blind to have seen it before now?They tried to set fire to the Royal family with accusations of racisim expecting a riot to ensue and force the racist Royals out, so no Charles and Camilla, cause well Charles is racist, no William as King because Catherine is racist. Which clearly leaves number 6 in line to the throne to take over?But much like the article says, predictions are so vague it makes it easy to apply any real life situation to the predictions and make it fit. This is just for a laugh, imagining the conversations about prophesy and destiny etc to convince people of things and why things must be done to exacting standards. post link: https://ift.tt/YLVnOiE author: silentcw submitted: December 13, 2023 at 05:36PM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit

[grimwood-notice-board]

WHEN TROLLS ATTACK! WHEN AUTHORS STRIKE BACK!

By Eldon Macwood

TRIGGER WARNING: For those who know me, I am your Trigger Warning. Some have accused me of being an Edgelord, which sounds like a porn name if you ask me, but compared to actual Edgelords, I'm very disappointing. As my views are my views, period. I'm not here to be edgy, I'm just me, warts and all. But please, don't add warts to me, I have enough of my own. I also don't bend the knee to any political party, I hate them all. They make us fight, instead of using our brains. I am a lover of equality, and I will take whichever side that seems to be in the most right. I also cuss like a motherfucker, not sorry. There will be a disclaimer at the end, because welcome to the Internet. Reader discretion is advised.

Remember, no bitching, I did warn you, I am your trigger warning. I don't provide pacifiers, or Desitin. I'm not responsible for your offenses as you were warned ahead of time. I really shouldn't have to bring this back up again, don't make me. Also, everyone has the right to speak up on their views, whether you’re viewed as a troll or not, you have that right. As do I. Still here? I shall assume you’re not easily triggered, and will read the whole post in proper context. Thank you for sticking around!

On today's episode of the, The Easily Triggered (not an actual series, but would make a cool one), the author, Matt Fucking Shaw, did the unspeakable!!!! The worst fucking thing an author can do!!!! In today's dark, dark, dark world, Matt Shaw went waaaaaay over the rails, man. Are you ready? Here goes, he defended himself against a patronizing troll. YUP. How fucking dare he!!!!!!!!!! THAT'S NOT ALLOWED!!!! HE WAS SUPPOSED TO TAKE IT UP THE ASS RAWDOG!!!!!!!!

Okay, my mock triggering aside, here's what happened:

(This is my subjective take, as she has her’s) Following this patronizing, ignorant "review" (the video is linked, I won't cancel her) of Matt Shaw's book, Roll the Dice, Matt responded by writing a dedication to her in his book, Moist Gusset.

So, here are some things to dive into: Hailey Hughes, in her very sassy, patronizing tone didn't just make assumptions about the author based on the book, she said that a white author shouldn't use the N word in a story.

Why this is ignorant:

As long as it's in context with the character, and not glorified by the author, this isn't a problem. Got news for ya, racist people exist. I have written about them, and killed them off in very nasty ways in stories. I'm a mostly white (most Wokies I know don’t give a shit I’m mixed, like DnD, they ignore mixed races) cisgender male author, AND I'm a pansexual. I also defend the LGBTQAI+, and yet, I have no problems with Shaw, as she claims that authors like Shaw, don't care about people like me. Yeeaaahhh, okay. Matt Shaw has no issues with me, probably because I have never attacked him, just sayin'. PLaying White Savior, and/or Story Police isn't a good look, ya know?

It doesn't matter what skin color you are, as long as the story is in proper context, yes, slurs can be said by the characters. This doesn't make it racist of the author. Please, try using your brain sometime. Same goes for writing outside of your gender, your sexuality, your race, etc. An author writes stories that have some realism in them along with a fuck ton of made up shit. It's fine to not like those stories, it's not fine attacking the author, and making them sound like something they are not. Dear Wokies, please understand this. (Disclaimer: not all Wokies are bad, this is just a common thing among the Wokie peoples)

She has also accused Shaw of not being able to write women. Look, I saw this same thing said about a cisgender woman author I really like, by another woman. Guess what??? Not all women think, and speak the same, SHOCKING!!!!! I'm not saying that male authors haven't fucked up when it comes to writing women, but Hailey, or any other woman isn't the judge and jury on how every woman in the world thinks and speaks. SORRY, doesn't work that way. Stop being a gatekeeper, it's not cute. It's fine to talk about what you don't like, but please, be classy about it. Don't attack.

Now, the book that really got everyone's undies in a wad is, Moist Gusset, and not just because the word, "moist" is in the title. Which surprised me, since the word is very triggering. Matt wrote a jab in the dedication to her. While I wouldn't have done that, it was nothing to sneeze at. Well, she comes back saying that he wrote about her in a book about torture porn. He didn't. The book wasn't about her (sorry your highness, only the dedication was about you, not everything in the world, I know, sad, panda ears), and it wasn't torture porn. She also admitted to not reading the book before she went off. Also, Matt misspelled her name on purpose in the dedication. I guess this review merited not reading a book before reviewing, in her eyes. Yeah, makes perfect sense. Maybe next time, read the damn book before reviewing it. Just a suggestion.

It was at this point many in the author/writing community lost their shit, and went on the warpath against Matt Shaw.

A lot of the hate made fun of him for being a fragile white cisgender man, because, yeah, lets act like the bigoted cunts we oppose! Makes perfect fucking sense! Goddamn hypocrites!

To add to this, many of her fans have also attacked Shaw and his fans because of this matter.

Okay, so while you can tell where I stand on this matter, in another video, Hailey made some good points. When it comes to things like, discrimination, it doesn't get talked about enough. Yes, there has been some terrible people who are authors who need to go. Absolutely. But the reason why many in the extreme horror community speak out when you trash talk them, is because it happens a lot. By people waving Woke superiority in their faces.

The extreme horror sub-genre is like any other genre, characters exist with many different views. Guess what? Not every character is supposed to be glorified, especially if they are racist. And most of the time, when anyone gets worked up over a white author writing about a character using a slur, almost always is it in context to that character, not to the author's character.

This shit is gatekeeping. You're playing Story Police. You're crying wolf when there isn't one. This doesn't help to protect anyone. If anything, it hurts your cause. It makes you look like you can properly discern when there is an actual problem. And while she throws out her credentials as a trauma therapist, so what? Jordan Peterson who's a complete transphobe was a therapist as well. Your point?It clearly didn't make him see reality any clearer now did it? The experience may help to a point, but people can still be shitty regardless of it.

Look, we all have books we hate. Perhaps some authors. There are in fact terrible people who write stories that are cringe city. But lumping innocent authors into the bad ones, isn't the way to go.

Hailey had her say, I am having mine.

Now, as an author, and someone who has been publicly attacked before by Wokies playing the White Savior role, I would have done something very different. First off, no specific dedications to reviewers, especially the bad ones. Yes, Hailey is known for her trollish reviews, but still, it counts as a review. At least on the book she claims to have actually read. I don't count her review of the book she didn't read.

What I would do is monetize my haters. Wanna talk shit about me, and make assumptions based on my stories? I will now use those words to advertise my books. You will actually help me. When people ask me how I cope with the hate, I will take a Loki attitude about it. Yes, it's very sad, anyway...

Because why would I ever take the words of an arrogant troll serious? Are you kidding me? You get your world wrecked over a fucking book, and you do so in the wrong context.

Okay, for now, this is all I have to say on the matter. What I won't do, is go around picking fights on social media. I had my say on my platform. You do you.

Peace.

Disclaimer: This is the subjective opinion of grimdark author, Eldon Macwood. A white-Cherokee-Crow cisgender male who makes snow blush with his bright af skin. He's also pansexual, so he's not all bad. The problem isn't with the sensitive topics, but rather, the crying wolf mentality, and inability to differentiate between real wolves, and imagined wolves. When an actual wolf is present, we should indeed, ring the fucking bell. However, to those who make shit up, nobody wants to believe a liar. But I'm just a fragile man, according to many Matt Shaw haters out there who disregard anything guys have to say, and conveniently ignore the cisgender and trans women who stand with him. In my evil, white male mind, I can't see why this has to be a gender thing. But the Wokies sure think it is. Oh well. Ignore me. I'm a man. I'm mostly white. I'm soooooo bad. Yup. Uh huh.

[izusun]

Headcanon: Izuku is into DIY.

Hot Take: Izuku would create a long furby. He has a collection of various eldritch creepy long furbies. Katsuki absolutely refuses to go into his room because of them. He would've exploded them by now but that would make Izuku cry.

Other CursedTM Things that Izuku does that makes Katsuki die inside and that Katsuki tries to hide from the rest of Class 1-A:

He's a part of the Vulture Culture community and collects roadkill and dead animals to turn into bones.

He has a collection of shitty All Might hawaiian shirts.

He has a collection of stuffed animals. They all have names ripped from Lovecraft such as "Yawgsathoth" and "Mother of Pus"

He writes fanfiction of the heroes.

He has a giant worm on a string plush, and his room is also decorated with Worms on Strings (you have no idea how much Katsuki had to bribe him not to add worms on strings to his uniform blazer)

He does have a plague doctor mask and will regularly just go out in a cloak and his mask

He cosplays exclusively female heroes, and crossdresses the worst dresses

He basically does art makeup, on his face and the face of Katsuki

"Hey what are you reading?" "Oh, this book on how to cook frogs."

He will eat anything. Including stuff that is on the ground. He has an iron stomach.

The actual reason Izuku hangs up All Might everywhere (it used to be a mix of all heroes) is because once in middle school Katsuki accused him of being straight, so he put him up everywhere and continued the habit, Katsuki hates his room now

- Goblin Anon (otherwise known as Goblin anon projects everything she does or wants to do onto her fav)

HI GOBLIN!!! GENUINELY SCREAMED AT THIS AU BECAUSE WTF

even i would not want to enter the beloved’s (izuku’s) room because of his shit.

i’ve searched up long furbys and i am, simply put, traumatized. i had a collection of furbys when i was a kid but we had to give them away because there’s too much of them. but long furbys? i am very much scared.

there’d be a picture of a long furby under the cut, and i’m genuinely terrified of the fucker.

also, can i just say that izuku writing fanfictions is the least cursed thing that he does? because like, reading the rest is like looking at that picture where you can’t decipher a single thing because, again, wtf izuku.

but they’re also funnier? creepier? because i can genuinely see izuku doing those dhekdoowks

✄┈┈┈

this shit would probably be snaking around the frames of izuku’s door. or he probably has one at the corner of his wall, the one that meets with the ceiling, and when a visitor looks up, they’re greeted by the sight of this centipede looking furby that has additional four eyes that izuku lovingly and carefully sewn on. it’s so nightmarish :’)

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

the vulture culture part started when they were young. his interest started when he saw a documentary on how to pin butterflies and he was like, “you know what? thats actually something i want to do!” but! BUT!! he cannot catch a butterfly, thus he settled for mounting dragonflies which he collected in the nearby stream (where katsuki fell).

fun fact about mounting dragonflies: they lose colours when they’re dead. you can use acetone to not only help preserve its colours, but also to stop its decay. they decay so quickly, it’s terrible.

anyways, izuku does not know that and instead followed a youtube video of how to mount dragonflies, using an old picture frame as the case.

inko comes home, sees his son doing his stuff and is just happy that izuku’s not rewatching that loud all might video. she helps him pin the other wings and they are fascinated at how pretty they look. well, the next day, the wings are now transparent and the belly side of the dragonflies are black. it also stinks so they had to throw the whole thing plus the case.

izuku’s fascination grows from there.

a failed experiment, after all, instigates the desire to right them.

so that’s where he starts: butterflies, moths, beetles, another dragonfly case.

katsuki is fascinated and disgusted because, “why would you want dead insects in your room, deku?”

the rest began when the bakugou’s and the midoriya’s have road trips. inko doesn’t have a car so the bakugou’s drive along with them, and it’s a good day. the kids are having fun and getting along, and the parents are chilling and enjoying their vacation. life is good.

then on their drive home, izuku, who is sitting sandwiched between katsuki and inko, lets out this blood-curdling scream. it wakes katsuki up and almost had masaru swerving the car out of the highway.

“maru-san (because my boy izuku cannot say masaru) can you please stop the car! i wanna get that!” he screams, pointing at something indecipherable by the side of the roads.

masaru does anyways because it’s so rare for izuku to request something, but also his heart’s still pumping so fast after izuku’s scream.

masaru wasn’t even done stopping the engine when the car doors are opening, and katsuki and izuku are tumbling out, hand-in-hand. masaru and inko follow them closely, while mitsuki stayed to watch over the car.

katsuki’s excited for an adventure, but then izuku just. stops them. in front of a skull.

masaru chokes from behind them and katsuki lets go of izuku’s hand so fast, running back to his dad because, again, “deku what the shit?”

izuku ignores him and gestures at the deer skull, one that has moss growing by the teeth and around the jaw, turning to inko to ask, “mama? can we bring that home?”

masaru feels very faint, but doesn’t say anything when inko easily agrees, laughing at her boy and patting his untameable hair as if your child asking you for a carcass’s skull is normal.

inko picks it up and they go back to the car. mitsuki does a double-take on what inko’s holding, but shushes up when she saw izuku bouncing happily. katsuki hesitantly sits beside izuku, but when izuku began yammering about all might, he forgets about the skull and nerds out with izuku.

inko explains to mitsuki and masaru about her son’s newfound interest, telling them that it’d go away in two years, don’t worry.

it didn’t. instead, his interest and his collection grew. so for his subsequent birthdays, along with hero merch, he has vulture culture collections gifted to him.

when he moved to the dorms, they’re more packaged than his hero merch and katsuki wants to get angry because he’s been looking for those limited hero merch and yet there they are, chilling beside izuku’s many many skulls and bones.

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IZUKU STARTED COLLECTING THE ALL MIGHT HAWAIIAN SHIRTS WHEN HE WAS TWELVE

he ransacked for the very first edition, often saving his allowance just so he can buy the retro versions of the all might hawaiian shirts. sometimes he’d barter, but that’s only when he’s really desperate for the shirts. usually he’d just be in an auction site and buy just those.

he’d take katsuki with him and katsuki is very careful in what to buy, often researching the things and having a very long pros and cons list to narrow down what he’d buy, then his best bud izuku just out there buying all might hawaiian shirts.

funniest thing too is that those are the first to go because they? don’t value much? and they’re ugly, tbh, and yet izuku’s slurping them all up.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

the first time class 1a were talking about plushies, izuku dropped the names and they’re confused because-

“bro did you name your plushies with lovecraft names?” OR “bro? do you perhaps have personalized lovecraft toys?”

it’s the earlier one but izuku would want to buy personalized lovecraft monster toys.

ok but? he names them as per the appropriate lovecraft characters? like:

a purple octopus plushie is called azathoth.

a green gecko plushie is called bokrug.

a fish plushie (literally nemo) is called dagon instead of nemo.

a pink jellyfish plushie is mother of pus.

he has other plushies that have normal names (well, as normal as naming a plushie “cheese grater”), but he has a collection of specific plushies that align with lovecraft beings.

he writes all might x reader fanfictions, i’m sorry ;v;

he only writes them because he doesn’t want other heroes with all might, but also the reader pairing gets more views than all might with other heroes.

katsuki caught him writing a slowburn, enemies to lovers all might x reader fanfic and proceeded to proofread it for him.

synopsis of the fanfiction: reader is a villain with a sound quirk (tailored to present mic’s quirk) and all might met them in a hero gala where the reader pretended to be a worker so that they could infiltrate the gala’s holder’s office for a specific banking access that is linked to the world’s bank. all might manages to sniff them out and proceeds to fight them, but when a beam is about to hit the reader, all might swoops in and saves them. cue the reader developing unwanted feelings for their greatest foe, all might.

aND THEN!!! all might knows the reader outside of their villain persona and is actually very much taken by them. so it’s a painful surprise that the reader is a villain. but he is willing to save them.

it is still incomplete despite having 102 chapters. by chapter 78, katsuki asked for payment because shit was too long and too angsty.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

HEISOSL IZUKU HAS A WORM ON A STRING DOOR CURTAIN

he genuinely likes them but creating the door curtain kind of extinguished that interest because that’s just too much worms and too much strings for a single curtain, and it was very much tiring.

he has a tiny one stitched on his blazer and inko heaved this really big sigh when she saw that her son’s crisp UA uniform got a worm by the chest pocket.

aizawa eyed it once and was so close to expelling izuku just because of that.

shouto, when they became friends, sends a box of them to izuku because he thought that those are izuku’s favourite. katsuki had not stopped cackling when he saw the huge box of them.

to punish katsuki, he made a furby with worm hair and left it by katsuki’s door. katsuki’s scream woke everyone up.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

the moment he walked out with a plague mask, tokoyami was exiting his dorm room too and they made a long eye contact.

tokoyami does not know if he is amazed by izuku’s plague mask or he is terrified because why does it look authentic.

for halloween, he was a plague doctor.

he stowed them away after saving eri.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

his first women hero cosplay was in third grade when they had a play about different heroes. the girl who was playing ragdoll got sick and everyone’s already strapped in as their hero and unwilling to change. izuku, himself, is present mic (katsuki’s all might).

the girls don’t want to give up their heroes and izuku, the bestest boy, goes and says he will become ragdoll.

their teacher agrees and helps him strap in as ragdoll and you know what, izuku loves it.

from then on, he tries to cosplay as much women heroes that he can afford. inko loves helping him and katsuki thinks he is adorable but! dont tell deku!!!

OK BUT he wore the dress that broke the internet once and katsuki almost exploded the dress off him. almost because izuku dodged and warned him that if he ever breaks that dress, katsuki will have to pay (either monetary or revenge, katsuki doesn’t know so he behaved).

FOR HALLOWEEN, HE WORE THIS AND KATSUKI HATES IT

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

izuku painting star freckles on his face!!!! or heart freckles!!!! or flowers!!!!

izuku in fairy makeup, pleaseee!

he also loves giving katsuki his own freckles because something about blonde hair and red eyes with pale cheeks kissed by freckles is making izuku gay panic.

izuku putting concealer on his own freckles once and his classmates are looking at him weirdly, wondering why he looks off?

like he still looks amazing, but something’s missing. it’s fucking them up and katsuki isn’t helping them so they’re trying to piece what’s up.

it takes monoma sneering at izuku and asking where his eight freckles are that 1a realizes why he looks different.

ok but denki asking monoma why he knows how much freckles izuku has and monoma spluttering, bright red and embarrassed, until he just walks away.

(answer: he’s crushing on green bean).

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

IZUKU HAVING A COLLECTION OF LIKE ARCHAIC? BREWING? STUFF? BOOKS.

i dont know how to explain it but my friend has this specific book about poisons, detailing recipes and ingredients.

it also talks about the use of frogs, lizards, snakes. the benefits of different flowers (ones with toxins) and how to use them during tea time.

it’s bizarre but the book looks pretty so i think izuku would have a handful of those in his room.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

izuku eating grass? flowers? trying dandelions and complaining that it’s furry

izuku wandering what a twig tastes like so he just sucks on it like a lollipop.

inko gave up on stopping him because her son would just eat anything but his broccolis, and she’s very much tired of thinking if izuku would have an upset stomach. he never had.

first time mitsuki saw izuku do that, she forced him to drink cola and eat candy to cleanse his palette.

katsuki goads him on eating more.

izuku’s favourite is chewing on maple leaves. he’s just a weird boy.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

OK BUT THE FINAL ONE ABOUT HIS ALL MIGHT POSTERS?? I HAVENT STOPPED LAUGHINGF

izuku wanting more all might figurines than posters. he only has some chemistry stuff (periodic table) on his wall, a little tapestry that matches inko’s, a canvas of monet’s water lilies (again, matching inko), and some cosmic facts that he bought online.

and yk katsuki sees those and thinks that it’s so weird that izuku has those posters but not all might?

his first thought was, “he doesn’t like all might as much as i do.”

the following one is, “he’s straight so he doesn’t want a guy’s face on his wall.”

katsuki’s mouth so happens to say the second one and the next week he visited izuku’s room again, each surface of the wall that is not taken by pinned insects and his frog-book stuff, plus his other existing non-hero posters, is covered in just all might posters.

he belatedly realizes that his own face is also on izuku’s wall, but that’s for later musings because for now he’s jealous that izuku managed to scourge the limited all might posters, but also is disgusted a bit because that’s too much all might.

katsuki walks out before his interest in all might plummets.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

ps to my beloved: ﹤୨♡୧﹥

GOBLIN I LOVE YOUR AUS ALL THE TIME AND IM SORRY FOR RESPONDING SO LATE! YOU ALWAYS MAKE ME SMILE AND I LOVE U!!!! you’re genuinely so precious pls dont stop your ramblings!!!!

[demonicheadcanons]

Obey Me Undateables / Side Dishes and Little Affections

AN: The last post for the brothers was ridiculously popular and this was requested so! Here we go. Just little ways the undateables are affectionate to the MC. Romance-coded but not for Luke bc he’s baby. I did this on mobile so forgive me for any formatting issues, and for the lack of a read more!

As you may have seen, I struggled a lot with Solomon because I really view him as being indifferent. I’m sorry if his is a little underwhelming! I also wrote this differently from the last one because I forgot how I formatted it, sorry ;u;

.

Diavolo

- He’s busy all the time. Like truly, this man rarely gets a break, and even when he does, his mind is still tick-tick-ticking away. Crawl into his lap and hold his face in your hands and he’ll finally relax, you can see the clouds clear away from his eyes. He kisses your forehead and holds your face in return, shining again. It only takes a few moments for him to settle completely, to shut off all his worries.

- He really just,,, likes to pick you up? So long as you’re not absolutely terrified he’ll completely randomly walk up to you and lift you up and carry you around with him or just hold you there. Bonus points if you wrap your arms around his shoulders and / or bury your face into his neck. Extra bonus points if you kiss or nuzzle against his cheek. His grin is so wide and bright it could light up the whole Devildom. Additionally, if you run and jump at him he will drop everything to catch you, no matter what. He has not and will never fail to catch you, and it makes him laugh so hard you can feel it in the way his arms and chest shake as he holds you.

- He likes to lay down beside you and link pinkies. It’s so soft, such a delicate little thing, and yet you trust him enough to let him do that. The minimal contact makes it feel even more special to him, there’s no pressure there. You’re close and he has a reminder of your presence beside him and it’s enough, it’s enough.

- With Diavolo, if you decide to teach him cute human things, you might regret it later, because he remembers them all. You put your palm out once, telling him that he’s supposed to rest his chin there, and from then on he’ll do it immediately. He will also expect you to do it too, and his timing is completely random. You’ll be talking to Barbatos and he’ll hold his hand out and wait for you to rest your chin in it. When you do, he pokes at your cheek with his thumb and walks off again.

- Please play cute games with him. Farming games like Stardew Valley or things like Terraria and Minecraft, or the Sims, or anything like that. He also doesn’t mind matches on more competitive games, but he likes to relax and make a house or a farm with you, and his reactions to everything is adorable; you two make Sims and he cheers when they get married, and even if they’re not representing you two and are just random Sims, he jokes about how you should do that too someday. He’s amazing at games that are strategy based, but prefers to play anything else so he can relax and not think for a while.

.

Barbatos

- Random tickles. It’s completely unexpected and he is very sneaky - the first few times it’ll catch you heavily off guard, and even after that it’s hard to predict when you’ll feel his gloved hands brush against your sides. He’s an expert at guessing where someone is ticklish, and abuses that power when alone with the people he loves (namely you!)

- Food fights but on a small scale. He’ll walk past you in the kitchen and brush flour across your face, disguising it as him simply being affectionate as he passes by, a reminder that he cares about you and is thinking about you even as he works. His movements are graceful and confident as always, to the point where it’s actually quite hard to even realise what he’s done. He will consider telling you before you leave the kitchen. He really will consider it.

- Similarly, if his hands are wet, just before drying them off he’ll flick water in your direction and then act like he has no idea what you’re talking about when you ask if he just did that. Really, MC, why would he do that? He’s been so busy cooking, and you’re accusing him of doing something so childish?

- He quite likes just, holding you up and carrying you around but in a different way to Diavolo. Instead of Princess carries, it’s more like if you jump onto someone and wrap your legs around their waist and your arms around their shoulders? He loves carrying you around like that. Cling onto him! He’s not fond of having you cling to his back, but his sides or front is fine.

- Barbatos tends to keep an eye on you and it’s really hard to tell, but if you’re in the same room as him he’s keeping tabs on what you’re doing. You could swear he has eyes on the back of his head, because he always seems to know what you’re up to. In reality, he really just likes seeing how you look when you’re focused, or, alternatively, when you’re completely zoned out and off in space, thinking of something completely random and irrelevant to the current situation. He’ll come up and tap your forehead and smile at you when it looks like you’re back in the room again.

.

Solomon

- Solomon isn’t super affectionate and he’s not really an acts of kindness kind of guy. The most important thing for him is proximity; he doesn’t need you pressed up against his side all the time, but he likes having you in the same room as him as often as possible. You spend your evenings in his room in Purgatory Hall, laying or his bed or working at his desk, as he busies away with some new spell or writes down results of experiments with different potion ingredients. He doesn’t bother thinking too hard about it and just accepts it, but the reality is that it’s very calming and comforting for him. He’s also not someone who worries much about being judged or anything, so regularly having another person around doesn’t bother him.

- He asks for your input a lot. Simply put, he wants to hear you talk, and he’d love to know what makes you tick and how your brain works. “What do you think of this?” “How do you think Satan would react if...” and so on. So many ‘what if’ questions that it might make your head spin, because he’s always playing a game in his head of ‘what would happen if...’ despite rarely following through with it outside of experimenting with his magic and potions, and he wants to involve you in it too.

- Solomon doesn’t mind holding hands, and likes to play silly games when you are. Things like having thumb wars, or he’ll tangle his fingers up with yours and watch, amused, as you try and fail to pull your hand from his grip. Afterwards he’ll hold your hand with both of his and run his fingers and thumbs over it to soothe you. He also likes to just rest his hand on top of yours when you’re sitting beside each other.

- He’s going to try to be affectionate if it’s something you seem to want, and just out of curiosity. The one thing that sticks is that, if you’re cooking for him (because he’s not allowed to) he’ll wrap his arms around your waist and hug you from behind, his chin in your shoulder as he watches whatever you’re doing. He’ll blow air at the side of your face or at your fringe / bangs if you have them, so long as you’re not doing anything too dangerous and aren’t at risk of getting seriously injured.

- Bonus: If Solomon calls you and says “try this” or “drink some of this” don’t do it. Or at the very least, ask about any possible effects first. Moreso for food than for potions; he’ll find a way to reverse the potion, but the memory of eating his food will be stuck with you forever.

- Bonus bonus: Solomon loves giving you squishy hugs but he will squeeze you too tight and he will laugh even if he feels your spin click against his arms as you yelp. He won’t hurt you, but he will squeeze you hard enough that breathing will be difficult for a moment. You can tell from his smirk that he doesn’t feel guilty at all.

.

Simeon

- Simeon likes having you play with his hair. The way you twirl strands of hair between your fingers and try and fail to make a mess of his soft locks, which always return to their place no matter how hard you try to stop them. Bonus points for innocently wandering fingers that brush down the sides of his face, thumbs and fingers that ever so lightly brush along his cheekbones or around and under his jaw. He relaxes into your touch, eyes fluttering closed before he opens them just enough to smile at you, silent but oh so visibly delighted.

- If he knows it won’t make you sick and it’ll wipe off, he actually quite likes to draw on your hands and arms. He’ll let you do it in return, of course, but simple doodles and patterns, hearts and diamonds and sweet little reminders you’ll see later when you have to wash them off.

- Laying on your stomachs with your sides pressed together on a thin, soft blanket, knees bent and legs swinging in the air as you both read the same book. Simeon always finishes the pages first and so you take charge of just turning the pages, until he mumbles that he had lost focus - he’d been too busy watching your expressions, almost lulled to sleep by listening to your gentle breathing and wondering if you were enjoying the story and what your thoughts on it were, trying to piece it all together without disturbing you.

- You pass him at RAD or out in the Devildom and you don’t necessary stop, but he always waves, and god is it impossible to ignore how he lights up. His eyes gleam and he looks so, so happy just to see you and be reminded of your existence and if you’ve been unsure before about how truthful he’s being when he says he loves you and adores being around you, that look on his face will erase all your doubts. He’s beautiful and he’s glowing and it’s because he saw you!

.

Luke

- It’s an obvious one but baking together! Making cakes and decorating them. Letting stress out as you knead bread, experimenting with making different types of pastries. One time you make a batch of cupcakes and decorate them to look like dogs and he feels really sad when people eat them but he’s proud all the same, and he likes that he gets to feel proud around you.

- He acts like he’s indifferent, but he quite likes when you call him your brother. If you call him your little brother, he’ll protest because he’s hundreds of years older than you in reality, but he allows it after a while. So long as he can call you his big sibling in return, it’s worth it. If any of the brothers tease him over being the little brother, he remarks that at least you trust him and care for him so much as to call him your brother. None of them can really respond to that.

- Pat! Him! On! The! Head! Adjust his scarf! Fix his hat! He doesn’t understand why he enjoys it so much, but then Simeon points out that it probably makes him feel cared for, and that’s absolutely it. No teasing works or harsh gestures, just little acts that show you care about him or are thinking about him. It makes him feel so safe and happy.

- He always remembers things on your schedule for you, from little reminders that you might forget about to big important events. The only other person he does that for is Simeon, so it’s really a big deal for him - he shows enough interest to listen to you and remember all the little details you tell him, and then to reach out to you and make sure you remember or just to say he hopes you have a good time. If it’s something stressful, he might not message beforehand, but he’ll show up when it’s over with some treats and act like he just happened to be baking today and had some to spare.

Tag list: @katsukis-sad-angel

[dameronology]

the one where you're more than friends {obi-wan kenobi}

summary: you love obi-wan. obi-wan loves you. perhaps it's time one of you did something about it. (for @agent-catfish-kenobi -- i hope you enjoy!!)

warnings: language

i miss when i titled my imagines like friends episodes so i guess i'm going back to that?

- jazz

Obi-Wan had been acting off recently. You couldn't quite put your finger on it - and nobody else had seemed to notice - but he was just...odd.

It wasn't unsurprising that you were the first one to see it. He was your best friend, after all, and you knew him better than he knew himself. To most people, he was merely a mysterious warrior with a kind heart and a lot of wit - and that was completely and entirely true, but there was so much more to him than that. For example, if his fear of loth cats ever got out, or the fact he slept with a night light and couldn't pronounce the word Kashyyk properly? He probably wouldn't have kept that mystery up for very long.

In return, Obi-Wan had an embarrassing amount of dirt on you -- and even though you always joked that your shared secrets were the only reason you were so closed, you both knew that that wasn't the whole and entire truth. You loved him and he loved you. Whether it was as friends, or something more, was what you were yet to determine.

(And also something you never planned on finding out).

"Have you noticed that Obi-Wan has been acting a bit weird lately?" you pondered the question to Anakin one day over breakfast.

The Padawan looked up at you, confusion set in his eyes. Was he really the best person to ask? At fifteen years old, he was simply preoccupied with being the top of his class and pretending not to steal glances at the Jedi girls his age. You couldn't blame him - after all, at his age you'd spent most your time staring at Obi-Wan.

"Weird how?" he asked.

"I'm not sure," you murmured. "He's just been...I dunno, avoiding me?"

Anakin thinned his eyes. "Hmm, maybe."

"Has he said anything?" you pushed.

"Not to me," Anakin replied. "But nobody tells me anything anymore or really pays attention to-"

"- I see him!" you suddenly stood up, tossing aside your pancakes.

"...me anymore."

Obi-Wan was stood halfway across the mess hall, cup of tea in one hand and a book in the other. How very on brand of him.

What were you even supposed to say? It wasn't a subject you could just easily approach and moreover, you couldn't even work out if it was all in your head. There had been times before where he'd just got busy, as people do and tended to be a little more absent. Part of you was worried that this was just one of those times, and that bringing it up would make things awkward. What would he think if you accused him of not spending enough time with you? You couldn't do anything that would make him ponder how attached you were - that was something you could barely admit to yourself, let alone to him.

Obi-Wan was crafty as fuck with the Force, so there was no seeking any answers out in that - at least not without him knowing. And knowing was the last thing you wanted right about then.

"Obi!" you called.

The Jedi jumped, almost dropping his drink to the floor as he blinked in surprise. "You're here later than usual."

(Had he purposefully come to the canteen at a time when he knew you wouldn't have normally been there?)

"Yeah, my morning meeting got pushed back so I hung around a little longer," you thinned your eyes at him. "Where have you been lately?"

"Here....reading," his blue eyes fell to the ground for a moment. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I haven't seen you for a week," you reminded him.

"You're seeing me now," he shot back, before glancing at his watch. "Oh, look at the time! Sorry, I must dash."

"Kenobi!" you called him after him. "You're such a..eugh!"

--

Nothing changed over the next few days.

You barely saw Obi-Wan - but you knew he wasn't busy, because his calendar was linked up to yours on your datapad. He'd made you do it years ago so that you could maximise the amount of time you spent together. It was just one of the many tiny things he'd done to make sure that he always that he put your friendship first. Being a Jedi was important to him, but you were the beating heart behind everything he did - not that he was fucking acting like it right now, but what could you do?

That was the question you found yourself asking every day in the week that followed. The feeling of powerlessness felt like it was eating you up inside - he was your best friend and he'd completely shut you out. You spent hours and hours going over your most recent interactions, trying to work out if you'd done something or said something. Surely not? Because nothing over the last few weeks had been any different to any other conversation or interaction that you'd had before.

So the problem must have been him, right? If it was nothing you did, it must have something going on in his head - and that sucked for you, because Obi-Wan Kenobi's mind was a tangled web of everything. It was so deep and complicated that you often wondered how he deciphered his thoughts into words at all.

Speaking of complicated things, you'd spent the better part of twenty minutes pacing outside the front of his bedroom door. Normally, you would have just knocked and strolled in, but nothing really was normal right now. You'd convinced yourself that the person you were in love with your best friend hated you, and it was one of the worst feelings in the world. Almost as bad as the time you almost impaled yourself trying to do a back flip whilst holding your lightsaber.

(You'd mastered it now - and had the scars to show for it too).

You were almost in the headspace to knock on his door when it opened. Obi-Wan froze in his tracks, icy eyes landing on you. They went wide, like a rabbit in headlights, as though it were taking him a minute to process that you were there. Then, once his brain had kicked back into action, he slammed the door right in your face.

"Kenobi!" you snapped. You banged a fist against the door and took a step back. "What the hell is going on?"

"I..." Obi-Wan trailed off from the other side. "I realised I forgot to put my shoes on."

"You're a terrible liar," you huffed. "Please, can you just open the door?"

"What do you want to talk about?" he innocently asked.

"Don't act dumb," you said. "Now seriously, if you don't open this door, I will slice it open with my lightsaber."

He opened the door a second later.

Without saying anything, Obi-Wan turned around and walked back into his room. It was neat as usual - books in alphabetical order, boots perfectly polished, spare cloaks folded. You took it as a sign to follow him inside.

"Thank you," you murmured. "I just wanna know what's going on, Obi."

"Nothing is going on-"

"- cut the crap," you cut cut him off. "You've made a point over the last ten years to never go more than a day without speaking to me and now you're just...you're icing me out and I can't work out why."

Obi-Wan's eyes avoided yours as he sat on his bed, nervously playing with the sleeves of his robes. What was he supposed to say that? He'd been a fool for thinking you wouldn't notice. A whole-ass, A-grade idiot. The king of all morons.

He'd been having a hard few weeks himself. Swallowing his feelings for you had been difficult at the best of times, but something - and he didn't know what - had happened recently to make them absolutely insufferable. Where he'd once been able to pass off his love for you as platonic interactions, it now felt impossible. He felt the innate urge to blurt it out every time he saw you. So, he figured if he just stopped seeing you, then...

Yeah, Obi-Wan was really questioning his ability to make coherent plans now.

"I..." he trailed off. "I can't lie anymore. I suppose it's sort of become the tauntaun in the room."

"So don't," you said. "You never have to lie to me. We have no secrets, remember?"

"Of course," he murmured. "I'll tell you what it is but you have to promise not to let it freak you out, okay? And if it does, can we just forget about it and-"

"- I promise," you firmly nodded. "Whatever it is, I won't judge you. Nothing you could say or do would ever change the fact you're my best friend).

He was about to test that.

Obi-Wan pulled his hands out of his sleeves, reaching across to where you were stood in front of him. He intertwined your fingers and pulled you down to sit beside him.

"I love you."

"I love you too," you smiled. "You know that."

"No, I mean...I love you," he repeated. "I'm in love with you."

You swore you could have felt your heart stop in your chest. That was everything you'd wanted to hear for as long as you could remember and it didn't even feel real. If it hadn't have been for the soft feeling of his calloused palms against yours keeping you grounded, you would have let yourself think that this was all a dream.

How long had you spent turning yourself inside out, trying to convince your brain that Obi-Wan would never feel the same as you did?

Clearly, he'd been better at hiding it - until recently, at least.

"You're in love with me?" you stuttered.

"I know, it's stupid. I should never have said anything-"

"- I love you too," you cut him off.

"You do?"

"Of course I do, you fool!" you pulled one of your hands away, whacking his shoulder. "I always have. I just never thought you felt the same."

"Why wouldn't I?" he spluttered, placing his hands on your shoulders. "You're smart and funny, and you're braver than anyone I know-"

Your eyes met and the Jedi paused mid-speech. As though he were moving in slow motion, he moved one of his hands from your shoulders and brushed it over your cheek. From your cheek, he ran it back down your shoulders, and then to the back of your neck, and then-

- that's when time stopped, because Obi-Wan Kenobi was a fucking good kisser. He pulled you towards him, dipping his head to catch your lips. His were soft and chapped at the same time; guided and exploring, completely taking over your senses in something that was so quintessentially him. His grip on you - physically and mentally - only got stronger as the kiss deepened, and you hated when you had to break away to breath.

"Wow," you murmured.

"That's one for word it," his voice was slightly shaky.

Obi-Wan pressed his forehead to yours, hand ghosting up and down your back.

"So does that that mean that you'd want to..." you trailed off. "Give this a shot? Give us a shot?"

"If you'll let me," he replied. "I would love that more anything."

"Of course," you grinned, gently running a hand through his hair. "You know it'll be complicated though, right? With the Council and the Code and-"

"_ you've always come before of that," he reminded you. "Now more than ever."

It was true. None of this - the trials and the dedication to the Order and the missions - would have mattered if hadn't been for you. All the times he'd felt himself losing, or slipping away, you were always there to guide him back onto the right path. Being a Jedi was his true calling but you? You were his purpose. The sun and the moon and the stars that made all his other achievements possible.

"We'll cross those bridges when we reach them," Obi-Wan vowed. "Together."

"Together," you gave him a nod in agreement. "That's all that matters."

[lucifers-horror-harem]

Okay, I've got a Victor Frankenstein request! Reader is Victor's SO (doesn't have to be the real SO Elizabeth in the film, just reader in general) and she goes into the lab to discover what Victor has really been doing all this time. Victor finds her and binds her to his work table/slab(?), and somehow, dark delicious sex ensues. 😈 Maybe Victor can also use some Victorian pet names on reader, like "My dear/child (sorry if the later is weird 🙈), Darling, etc.? Okay bye! *runs and hides*

AHHHH Thank you so much for asking for Victor Frankenstein, he really needs more attention as Peter Cushing is SO HANDSOME sdfgfrerfghgf Okay so my Kinktober fic linked here was very similar to your prompt, so I decided to make a sort of sequel to that fic! You don’t have to read that one before this one but it’s more Dr Frankenstein goodness ;)

Hold:

Word Count: ~1k Warnings: AFAB!Reader, Dub con/dark fic, kidnapping, cunnilingus, fingering, restraints on reader, sex on a table, dirty/degrading talk.

It had been days since Doctor Victor Frankenstein had caught you in his lab, going through his belongings and discovering his experiments. No, experiments weren’t the right word for it, more like abominations of nature. Your dear Baron was trying to become God, reanimating dead things as a way of controlling what mortal humans should never be in control of.

And since then, he continued to commit sins you never would have imagined from someone you originally believed to be such a kind and caring man. Instead, not only did he continue these atrocities against man, but he did things to you that were only allowed between a married couple. While he was gentle with your body he was also harsh and firm, his cold gaze watching you as he brought your body unbelievable pleasure that you never dreamed possible.

Now, he simply seemed content in keeping you in his lab, making sure you were fed and taken care of as he stayed in his laboratory full time. Why would he need to leave to see you if you were already there? Besides, you were now his newest project, and he intended to use you as saw fit. 

It was on another one of these nights that he played with your body, using his fingers in ways that you had never thought possible. Your sister had told you some of what happens when a man lays with a woman after marriage, but never were you told about anything other than his manhood being used. Instead, he often worked his ministrations on your body with his hands, and today, his mouth. 

It seemed so lewd and uncouth of him, the great Baron Frankenstein debasing himself to such an activity that seemed so dirty. A man using his mouth was something you never would have imagined, and here you were, bound to the table watching him as he used his tongue to bring vulgarities out of your mouth that you didn’t even know you could utter. It set your whole face ablaze with heat, so embarrassing it was to not only be doing this but to be enjoying it so thoroughly. 

That was when you did something even more shocking. As he stood up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, ice blue eyes looking down at you predatorily, you spoke up. “Herr Baron,” you uttered breathlessly. “Please, untie me. I want to hold you.”

He responded with a chuckle, and your bottom lip jutted out in a pout. You hadn’t intended it to, and it felt so childish in response for something so adulterous of an activity as this. Victor ran his fingers through his dark hair. “Now, why would I do something like that?”

“It isn’t fair that you do this to me while I am unable to reciprocate,” you answered in a soft voice.

A smirk. His long lithe fingers held your chin, tilting it up to meet his gaze. The way his fingers still smelled of you made you want to turn away in shame, but you couldn’t. After a pregnant pause, he finally said, “My child, are you saying you want to debase yourself further?” His index finger stroked along your cheek. “That you like this sort of thing? I didn’t take you for a harlot, my dear, but it seems you are growing to be one.”

The accusation made your heart jump into your throat. “I’m not!” you quickly defended yourself. He quirked his eyebrow, and you continued, “I just thought… since you have already deflowered me that I might… we might…” 

“Don’t tell me you’ve fallen for me, my dear girl,” Victor says with a sneer. “After all of the things I’ve done to you, ruined you for all other men, and yet still you want me? How sweet.”

“Perhaps, but those things you’ve done, I like them,” you said, eyes averted. “I want more.”

Victor took a moment to think, looking deep into your eyes as he seemed to debate with himself whether to indulge you or not. Finally, he let you go and set to work on the bindings that restricted your movement. Relief washed over you, and as you regained control of your limbs, you couldn’t help but sit up on the table. 

But he was not done with you yet. Victor’s hands gripped beneath your knees and pulled you flush against his body, making you gasp at the sudden movement. You gripped the lapels of his shirt, whimpering softly as he pulled himself out of his trousers and stroked along your folds. His eyes were scanning your face, watching for any signs of resistance, and when he didn’t see any, he pushed. 

God, he felt so good. You felt so full and complete with him inside, flush against your walls. You had no idea anything could feel so good, and here the Doctor was, constantly proving you wrong. It seemed as though he felt the same, as he too couldn’t keep his eyes off of you as he thrust himself inside, the table creaking with each movement. You threw your head back and cried out his name the closer you got, and he didn’t bother to correct you to refer to him formally. He was simply Victor, and you held tightly as he took from you what he wanted, and in turn you experienced sensations beyond your wildest dreams. 

By the time he was finished, you had seem the cosmos behind your eyes that had been shut so tightly as your body trembled uncontrollably. His seed spilled from you as he pulled out, not yet stepping away from you as he held you to him. His hair fell into his face again, and you forgot yourself as you pushed it back with a small smile on your face. Victor blinked, regarding your gentle care, and then fell back into a knowing smile. 

“I believe this experiment has come to a successful resolution, wouldn’t you agree, my dear?”

[jockpoetry]

supernatural sees women as a tool for development and strengthening of narratives/motivation and dean sees his body as a tool. is that anything?

When I saw this ask I really made the 🥴in real life. So, yeah anon, I do think there’s something to this.

Quick Disclaimer before I actually launch into my thoughts™: A lot of my read of Dean stems from my experience as both an oldest daughter and a transman. Being the oldest daughter was an experience I lived for many years, but I am also a man. I wasn’t raised as a man, I wasn’t socialized as a man, and even though once I came out upon reflection my masculinity was obviously there. Like I was a man™ before I knew I was a man. Even when I actively tied my identity to femininity for a long time! A lot of my prideful moments were based around statements like: “I was the only girl who (fill in the blank).” 

So I am just putting that out there before I launch into my spiel about Dean/Gender/Tool because they all interlock for me. 

I am also going to apologize in advance because I know this has fully gone off the rails and I’m not even done writing it yet. If this is incomprehensible ! Well, happens to the best of us.

First off, most importantly I guess before we discuss womanhood and Dean and the way both are utilized on the show I need to say that I personally don’t subscribe the whole Dean is female coded thing. 

It’s a read I can absolutely understand. But for me..he’s not. 

He’s a hypermasculine man to the point that when (and because he is written as a punchline, as the stupid™ brother, as the whore™, as the mother/father™, as daddy’s blunt instrument™, etc) Dean deviates from the pre-accepted definition of hypermasculine it’s Wrong. 

It’s Instantly Feminine. 

I think the internet has made the world very black and white, or blue and pink maybe. This point, I think, colors a lot of these discussions. Dean cooks, he cleans and so therefor he’s female coded. When that really just feeds back into the whole toxic masculinity loop. You can’t be masculine and cook and clean and cry. That’s for feminine people only. 

I get the argument! I do, I just think that Dean’s actions are not inherently feminine, it’s just in the vacuum of Female and in the Absence of Traditional Masculinity it makes sense to assign him female coded and move on.

IN FACT the way that Dean is the action hero of the show, the Masculine™ one on the show - but he cries, and he rages, and he cooks (Again and Again) and cleans (Again and Again). The fact he’s macho and confident but he has so little self esteem. Is frankly insane to me. You have this blaze of glory character who is so depressed that they have him kill himself. Twice. In explicitly “I hate myself, I hate hearing all the things I hate about myself, I want to destroy myself” ways. 

On just a regular ol’ network show that is just ungodly bad at times. They let their Male Hero cry - all the time (if I linked every example of this the essay would be...longer than it already is, but just take my word for it). Dean tears up and grieves and shows more than just Angry Horny Violent™ (he shows plenty of that, don’t get me wrong) but he’s Emotional (Again and Again and Again). In many different ways!

I mean, beyond even just tearing up, they make their Male Hero™ face sexual violence in pretty, uniquely horrifying - and queer! - ways.

Let’s make it clear, they did a lot of this unintentionally. 

Or they do it as a joke. 

Off of dean for a moment to say women are plot devices in this show. I could probably count on one hand female characters who have sincere depth to them that have roles outside of progressing plot, filling a filler episode, and who are still alive. Like even characters such as Charlie who are wholly developed, and interesting, are only remembered/mentioned/utilized to progress plots or fill an episode out - and then she dies. For pain™ for plot™ for no other reason than to traumatize a character. 

Which let’s also make it clear Dean’s trauma is also only used as a plot device (as is Sam’s but in a different way, and Cas’ trauma is a whole other barrel of fish we’re not gonna dive into right now). Like wholesale full stop they don’t actually care about what happened to him. Unless it’s relevant in an episode. 

Oh that boys home he was left at when he was 16 for months? Sure we’ll sprinkle that in in the back half of the series. Oh he was covered in bruises and said it was from a hunt (when it’s clear contextually they were from his father but saying the fantastical but true is easier than saying the uncomfortable but true). As Dean says though the story became the story, he was sixteen. He just went along with what John said.

We only see Dean ever truly rage at John, by the way, when either Dean is dead (when he’s between life and death and he rages at John, right before John “apologizes” for traumatizing him, for putting too much on Dean’s shoulders, and fucking dying) or John is dead (the Djinn episode where Dean is straight™ and John is dead™ and he goes to his grave and just yells and rages like he should have to his father in the real world).

Dean’s trauma from being both tortured and torturer in hell? Yeah, we don’t talk about that after it’s Relevant™. Even though it’s clear - especially in the demon!dean, mark of cain era, all those years later - Alastair still has his hooks inside of Dean. I stopped watching originally after s8 ended. I was fed up with the show, and with this whole renaissance I’ve been doing a rewatch and I’m into season twelve now and it really has never come up again. 

Even when he had the mark of cain and he was tasked with questioning and accused of torturing it was “the mark has changed you” and not “you were victim and victimizer in hell for forty years, which is longer than you’ve been alive on earth” (and, was about as long as he wound up living. Which is desperately sad.

Because we talk about Sam’s desire for a “normal” life but, Dean wanted out too. He was tired in the first few seasons of this show, he never had a chance to taste freedom (we don’t count the boys home, because that was a different kind of regimented life, and it was a false freedom) the way that Sam did in Flagstaff with Bones or at Stanford with Jessica. Love for Dean is sacrificing, it’s putting himself/his happiness/his well-being last.

Because Dean only knows love in the context of violence (like all of these fun examples, for starters) is a phrase that I’ve said a lot both in private chats and on here, and I absolutely think it goes to him being a tool (a blunt instrument, a plot device, so both textually and metatextually) instead of a person. Which Cas sees Dean’s shame/guilt and sees that side of Dean because he touched his soul, and saw more than just the Righteous™ man, more than just the tool, he saw A good man, not a machine. 

On the other side though you have how “bad guys” view Dean: Desperate, Sloppy, Needy, Dean’s hole (Again), which is again so wildly counterintuitive to the story of a Macho Man Hero™. You’re using vocabulary that is both queering him and feminizing (and I know this a meme format, but sincerely it is done in a derogatory way it is feminizing. It’s breaking him down to bare parts, to a sloppy hole). 

My whole rewatch I have been absolutely fascinated by how identity and free will is utilized/conceptualized on this show. Castiel has been my main focus, but Dean and how he is framed by himself and others is...fascinating - and frustrating. The writers inconsistency lends itself not only to this unintentionally queer character, but also one that again is incredibly easily read as a non-traditionally masculine character.

As a feminine character.

This show has so few female characters that of course it had to foist the roles/behaviors/plots that a female character might have onto a male character. Which I think is part of why reading Dean as trans (either transmasc, or transfemme) is so easily done like.   

Half of these are shit posts, but you can find trans allegories/textual evidence in this show again, again, again, again, and again. And this is unintentional, they don’t want you to look at Dean and see woman, former future or present. Like a lot of these I’m sure are punchlines for them, because women/queer folk are punchlines to them. 

Sometimes the only women in an episode are random witnesses who get two sentences of dialogue, and then the main guest character is a man. Who flirts with Dean, and Dean is receptive to it. 

They paint themselves into a corner, there are female Rabbi. So easily could Aaron have been a woman instead of a man, but they made the choice to play up the HaHa Dean & Men card. 

Because, again, Dean has filled the slot of Woman™ of Female Lead™ and the flirting would’ve been straight if Dean was a woman. It’s a plot device, they needed to have the guest character be disarming, be cute, make the main character flustered. 

It’s just the main character is a man, because they’re allergic to women. But they still need those female plots, tools of femininity, to move their show forward. I mean I am a big subscriber to transmasc Jo (no idea if anyone else is with me on this one, but let me explain). Jo is in love with Dean (concept) not Dean (actuality). Which, we’ve all had our eggs cracked by someone like that. We were in love with them until we realized we just wanted to be them.

He loved her like a little sister, she loved him like a lost idol. He’s a golden calf and she dies for him, because she believed in him, she was the original character dashed at the altar of the Winchesters. 

I fully believe if she had lived and if this show had a crumb of actual good writing Jo could have been a deeply compelling transmasc character. But I also think she’s a fascinating inversion of Dean. Dean is a Masculine Character who subverts Toxic Masculinity, Jo is a Tomboy™ she’s not your (if you take it straight, literally and metaphorically) average female love interest. She’s angry, she’s not soft at all, all edges and corners and thorns. She isn’t helpless, she’s stubborn but not in a “you’re going to get punished for this” way. She’s right when she’s stubborn. She’s helpful, she’s a martyr. 

I could do a whole other essay just on Jo (and Ellen, and Ash, what a fucking trio!) but needless to say Jo was one of the first...plot device feminine tools sacrificed to this show. She was a regular, she was unique, she was an engaging character, and she still died (to progress the plot? no. for man pain? yeah, for like three episodes maybe, and then it’s forgotten just like the rest of Dean’s trauma, as we mentioned above). 

Dean and Women and Love is a very interesting tool used too because. Boy they sure try to make Dean love women and it fails in small ways, and in big, meaningless, failed het domesticity (again) ways. Not to mention whatever Lust (in the form of a woman) having no effect upon him, when they could have used that moment to assert his Masculinity and Heterosexuality. He behaved normally? And...also...whatever the fuck the Adios thing was!

Like they have these opportunities to make him Traditionally (toxically) Masculine, but make the choice to...not? To soften him. Because it’s a tool. He’s their female lead, textually he had to take on the role of mother(/father) to Sam, but...I mean this is a million miles long already. I know, but we absolutely can’t not talk about his Paternal/Maternal behaviors. (Which appear again and again again and again, outside of his relationship with Sam even/especially). He’s the mother hen, sage, safety net, beacon, home to so many side characters they meet.

I mean in many ways Jody is also a Dean comparison. Lost her family. Found a new family. She is non-traditionally feminine, but easily flustered and Silly™ (let’s just drop the entire sex talk over family dinner scene with Alex and the boys and looking to them for help, even though she was already a mother, and she’s a cop, and a hunter and this confident no nonsense individual.... She’s not). We are meant to see her as this hard ass, but she makes extra food for the boys to take back to the bunker. She’s deadly in a fight, but also still easily overwhelmed and put into damsel mode, and she cares so much even in the face of adversity.

It’s also fun to see how Jo | Jody are reflections of Dean at different points of his life. Younger, cocky | Older, settled.

Even when the text tries to tell us that he’s not.

When it reminds us that he’s violent. That he is his father, even if he says that Sam is more like John (which was reflexive, which was angry because of Adam and how Sam was behaving like Dean in that episode, and yes there are parallels to be drawn between Sam and John, the show barely dives into them). Instead we’re told that Dean is John (Again and  Again and Again and Again). 

So intensely that a fanfictionalized version of the Winchester Gospels makes it an entire fucking musical number. 

And yet, despite the texts insistence to make Dean Macho Man Father Reborn™ We get this Dean who is silly (and directly compared/contrasted to the female character in this scene), soft, in heels, nagging, and... Sully (you know Sam’s imaginary friend who has the same Haircut Dean has, who is a softer, shorter, friendlier, campier, version of Dean who was a replacement For Dean until the real one let Sam back in? That? Sully?) it’s hard to take them seriously. 

Hell, even when he was A DEMON? What did they do? They had him sing off-key drunken karaoke, they had him doing this ! Like that’s your hero, unhinged, free to be as bad as he could be, and you put him in a cowboy hat in a romance with the king of hell. 

The Female Lead, everyone. Who’s biggest betrayal(s) comes at the hands of his love interest (again, a man even though it was an angel who could’ve taken any vessel! who could’ve been recast, who canonically dies admitting his love to Dean - that one), who he tries so hard to be loyal to. 

The contradictions of his character are laughable. He is so emotional, but if he is engaged about his emotions? He shuts down, or he’s exasperated about being asked about them. It really is Female Lead/Only Here For The Plot disease, because everything is more important than him. How’s he doing? Doesn’t matter outside of the context of how x character is doing or that y character is dead. Or his emotions only matter if they’re done in penance. 

They also really do frame him as Pretty Boy™ in a violent way, or in a derogatory manner. They’ll give us homoerotic shots like this or these and never really acknowledge how these are gay shots. Sorry the gun scene is a a straight up sex scene, the beer sip spilling out over his mouth is oral, the scene where Cas fills up Dean’s glass with whisky is also a sex scene, they do this shit on purpose but accidentally queer it up. If Dean was a woman these scenes wouldn’t even matter. They’d be passing moments, but because he is not just a man but A Man™ they’re insane to see.

Not to mention all of these scenes and all the ones I haven’t linked where Dean dresses up. He performs masculinity, but he performs femininity too. He’s a plot device that is slotted in to whatever role they need. He’s Super Straight Butch Man™ but coaches the lesbian on how to successfully flirt with a man. He’s Action Hero™ who sits through a montage with the same lesbian and yays and nays her outfits, and enjoys himself.

Fuck he loves dressing up, he feels better in these costumes because performing a character is easier than being himself. Because who is Dean? He’s a tool, both textually and metatextually. It is exactly how the women and because of the women on the show that Dean is the way that he is. If there was a more steady female presence Dean would not be half as much of a plot device or half as camp/gay/feminine/non-traditionally masculine/queer coded as he is. 

In conclusion....

[shemarmooresfedora]

Menagerie

Summary Quote: “Don’t you get it? It’s all been a lie, Spence. Since the moment we met, our entire relationship has been founded on a carefully crafted lie and since then, we have been tricked into thinking this was love...but maybe that was a lie too.”

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Genre: Angst with happy ending, Fluff

A/N: this fic has already been completed! it’s 25 chapters and just over 40,000 words. i don’t plan on posting all the chapters on to here but i have included the first two and the ao3 link to the rest is at the bottom if you are interested!

Chapter 1

You woke up from your peaceful slumber to hear a loud crash followed closely by someone yelling “FBI”. You screamed, alerting the agents of your presence thinking you were in danger but once the agents had reached your bedroom, you were being put in handcuffs and read your rights.

“W-What is happening? Is this some sort of sick joke?” you stuttered.

“Do you think killing three men is a sick joke?” the muscular intimidating agent spat back.

You were in utter shock. You barely even left the house let alone go out on a murderous rampage.

“I-I don’t know what you think I did b-but I can assure you I-I didn’t kill anyone or do anything illegal,” you tried to stay as calm as possible but you were shaking profusely.

The other agent that was the back-up in your apprehension seemed to notice this and took some sympathy on you by lightening his grip on your cuffs as he led you out of your front door that had been kicked down.

-

You sat in the chilly interrogation room wishing you had something else on rather than a thrifted oversized t-shirt with stains on it that said “Best Dad Ever” and sweatpants. They removed your handcuffs, I guess you weren't considered that much of a threat in a locked room in FBI Headquarters. Although you could not see past the one-sided glass, it was obvious the agents from before and possibly others from their team were standing on the other side, observing you.

-

“Well she is definitely not what I was expecting,” Prentiss was the first to break the silence as the whole BAU team watched you through the glass.

“She was sleeping when we apprehended her. Her facial expressions and body language showed clear signs of distress but I can not be certain if it was because we have the wrong person or she is scared she finally got caught. In her apartment, we found nothing in the slightest bit incriminating, mostly just lots of books,” Spencer spoke, while he was trying to remain impartial, he had admired your taste in literature as he was looking for evidence.

“I’m not convinced. I think this is whole ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about’ thing is an act,” Morgan stated as he strolled to the door leading to the room you were being held in.

-

The door opened and your eyes flickered up. Much to my dismay, it was the muscular agent rather than the tall, lanky agent who seemed a lot friendlier to you, given the circumstances.

He took the seat across from you and spoke firmly, “I am ready to take your confession whenever you are.”

At this point, you were just getting frustrated. You were ripped from your bed in the middle of the night given no explanation other than you had supposedly killed three men and he had the audacity to ask for your confession to something no one would even tell you the details of. So against your better judgment, you opened your mouth which has been known to get you in trouble from time to time.

“Well, considering no one has even told me what I am formally being accused of or the details, I can’t do that. Do you even have any evidence to keep me here? Oh wait...you don’t...that’s why you need a confession because all your evidence so far has been circumstantial. Only too bad for you...I know my rights. So, you have forty-eight hours to find some real evidence against me, that doesn’t exist if I may add, before you have to let me go.”

The agent looked back at the glass with his jaw dropped.

“I watch a lot of crime TV shows,” you huffed and crossed your arms.

-

“Okay this may be harder than we originally planned, folks. We are going to need everyone on call for the next forty-eight hours until we find some incriminating evidence,” Hotch spoke.

The agents began to depart from the room to review old case files and dig deeper into your personal history. Spencer stayed back for a few minutes and saw tears start to roll down your face when you thought no one was still watching you. You quickly wiped them away and wringed your fingers together. Spencer didn’t know if he should or not yet but he felt bad for you.

Chapter 2

The door opened again but this time, you just kept your eyes down at the table so the person could not see your watery eyes.

You have been trying to put up a brave face but every time, a different agent comes in to question you about your routine, friends, family, and personal life, you just feel exposed.

Traces of your DNA had been found on the bodies and they had all visited your bookstore but that wasn’t enough to convict you I guess. You didn’t know the victims personally but you still felt bad for them.

A cup of coffee was placed gently into your line of sight. You wrapped your hands around the warm paper cup and mumbled your thanks.

“I didn’t know how you liked it. I can add more creamer or sugar if you like,” the voice spoke.

You glanced up tentatively and it was the tall, lanky agent. Your lips turned up ever so slightly into a small smile but it was the most you could manage at the moment. You took a sip.

“No it’s fine, thank you. It really helps. I appreciate it,” you said.

“I’m Spencer, by the way”

“Y/N, but you probably already know that by now.”

He chuckled at your joke. Silence filled the room once again.

“I didn’t do it, Spencer...and I know I can’t really prove that but I wish I could. Most of my friends live in another state and so does my family so I don’t go out too often. I don’t have a boyfriend. I own a bookstore so I spend most of my time there. I don’t really know why this is happening to me,” you started to get choked up again so you stopped talking.

-

Spencer involuntarily blushed when you stated you didn’t have a boyfriend.

He really needed to get it together as much as he wanted to believe you.

You could be a murderer for all he knows...but a really pretty murderer with a great taste in literature and probably even a bigger collection of books than him.

Stop it, Spencer, get your head in the game. He smiled softly once more at you cradling your drink and exited the room.

-

The forty-eight hours were up. They had nothing solid against you. If anything, the team had less of a case against you.

The bodies were all dumped on the opposite side of town from where you lived but it was clear they had been transported there. Garcia’s digging showed you had no car and you weren’t lying when you said most of your friends and family live out of state so the chances of you borrowing someone else's car were unlikely.

Credit card receipts showed you hardly ever went to that side of town and they had profiled the unsub would know the area well.

The victims did come into your store a few times but they also visited all the shops on that street occasionally as well. It didn’t make sense for you to kill your customers. That would just be bad for business and easily linked back to you.

The team agreed that they believed Y/N was no longer a suspect.

-

An officer drove you back to your apartment where luckily, your door had been fixed.

You ordered takeout and took a shower to hopefully rid yourself of the stress of the past two days. Shortly after your dinner, you fell asleep hoping your door would not be busted down again by the FBI.

-

A few days had past and you were opening up the store for the morning. You were in the back organizing the nonfiction section when you heard the soft bell chime of the door opening.

You walked to the front expecting to greet one of your regulars. Once you saw who was standing shyly at the front desk, you stopped in your tracks.

“Spencer?”

“Uh h-hi-hello Y/N. How are you?”

“Good...unless you are here to bring me back in for more questioning”, you said half-joking half-seriously.

“Oh! Um no, you’re all set. I am truly sorry about that. But I do have a question for you”, he was nervously wringing his hands just like you do, looking anywhere but your eyes.

“It’s okay kind of sounds like the wrong thing to say because I would preferably not be dragged out of my bed in the middle of the night and then held for forty-hours but I understand, you were simply doing your job. Anyways, ask away,” you replied.

His eyes finally made contact with yours and he opened his mouth like he was about to say something but completely lost his confidence.

“Do you...um do you...do you have a nonfiction section?” Spencer blurted out.

You didn’t understand how the nonfiction section could make someone so nervous. He looked as if he was going to say something else but thought better of it.

“Of course! I was just organizing it! Right this way!” you chirped with a smile that seemed to untense his shoulders just a little bit.

Spencer perused the section a bit before deciding on a hefty book about the different plants and flowers native to the East Coast. When he made his way up to the front desk to check out, you praised his choice.

“Aw! I love reading about plants. I have some many succulents in my apartment. It's honestly more of a jungle. Have you ever seen forget-me-nots? So lovely!”

Spencer smiled and nodded, knowing if he tried to speak it would be gibberish because he could not focus on anything when he was looking at your radiant smile.

-

“Did you do it?”, Morgan asked as Spencer entered the bullpen with a brown bag.

“No but now I have a book on plants and flowers. I actually am excited to read it. Did you know that some plants like orchids do not require soil to grow they get their nutrients from-”

“You chickened out”, Derek sighed.

“She is so pretty! She was just standing there in all her radiance smiling at me and I couldn’t take the rejection. We dragged her out of her bed and put her in handcuffs only to find out two days later, she is innocent. I can hardly believe she is still being nice to me despite it.”

“Well believe it or not, the first night I met a girl, she was in handcuffs in her bed with me so it’s not always a bad thing,” Morgan smirked.

“Not appropriate, Morgan,” Spencer scolded.

“What are we talking about? I don’t like to not be included in the gossip!” Garcia ran over in her pink heels with Prentiss right behind her.

“Pretty Ricky here went to visit Y/N at her bookstore but then chickened out about asking her on a date,” Morgan informed them.

“Awwwww! I like her! She’s so pretty! Plus, I have already done a background search on her and she is squeaky clean now that we have proven she isn’t a murderer,” Garcia excitedly rambled.

Prentiss was nodding her head in agreement, grinning at Spencer.

Spencer had already chugged his morning cup of coffee during this conversation just to have an excuse to go get another cup and leave this conversation.

“You can’t run away from your feelings, Boy Wonder!” Garcia shouted.

Chapters 3-25

[alfredosauce50]

You’re gonna go far, kid [Punk! England x reader]

Synopsis: Ever since coming to England to study, you haven’t had the time to do what made you come in the first place--tourism! The only friend you have is an exchange student from Russia, Ivan, so why not kill two birds with one stone? He schedules a little playdate with Arthur, a local, so he can show you around the hottest spots in London. You two immediately hit it off. Ivan is quick to notice his interest in you, so he starts teasing the poor man and making things hard for him. Camden is the last destination, and there’s no saying when he’ll ever see you again. Will he be able to get over himself and ask you out before the night ends?  Note: Attractions are italicized and have a link to a picture. Wordcount: 4,641 The reader is referred to as she/her.

This was the day you had been dreading, and yet, looking forward to. The first part was easy to explain. Picking up your hot latte, you set it down after a quick sip. You didn’t even have time to enjoy it. Not when you were typing away at your keyboard like a speed demon. You promised your friend you would finish your assignment before today’s meet-up, but your procrastination habits were a bitch. Nevertheless, you were eager to uphold your side of the deal, even if it meant stressing your hair out to get it done. 

So long as he didn’t show up before you were done, right? 

After burning your tongue for the second time that morning, you let out a small groan at the sting you felt but gasped at what you saw outside the window. It was a sound made from genuine terror--rather than the quiet streets of London at seven AM, you spotted a man pressing his face right up to the glass. And he was staring at you, menacingly. 

Anybody would’ve been creeped out by the sight, but you knew the guy. “Aha--Ivan! Hey! Morning?” You began rather awkwardly. 

He waved in response, and his glower melted away in exchange for a childlike smile. “Dobroye utro, (F/N)! I hope that’s not your assignment you’re doing.” He hummed, placing two hands on the glass to peer at your screen from outside. Oh shit. Glancing briefly at said screen, you turned it away before clicking the upload button. 

“Of course not.” You grinned, shutting your laptop immediately after. “I was just... Surfing the net. Checking Instagram. You know?”

“Is that so? I’m gonna check.” He made his way inside. And in no time, he was looming over your shoulder to start browsing through your internet history. You, on the other hand, were sweating balls. 

“You’re so funny, (F/N). Who checks Instagram on their computer?”

It seemed like only yesterday he was the oblivious exchange student from Russia who had no concept of social media. He had been a country bumpkin through and through, but a few semesters after befriending you, your influence rubbed off on him. Even you had no idea what went through your head when decided to talk to him, the intimidating new kid who spoke broken English, but there was no turning back now. He was attached to you by the hip and picked up on your habits faster than you could deal. 

He only became more of a menace when he discovered Twitter.

A displeased expression contorted at his expression when he saw that there was no evidence of you ‘surfing the net’. Google Docs couldn’t possibly count, after all.  “... Hm... Apparently, not you. Why didn’t you finish this yesterday, sunflower? Remember our promise?” 

You sighed. “Look, I’m sorry. I passed out last night. But hey, I technically finished it before you came, didn’t I?” 

He craned his head from side to side in thought. “Maybe. But if you hadn’t, you know what that means.” Ivan coiled his arms around your neck and a sickeningly sweet smile curled up at his lips. 

“You will come with me to Moscow for Christmas!” 

A chill ran down your spine at the thought. Going to Russia was bad enough. But during Winter? You were never good with the cold. If you could barely handle London, Moscow was out of the question. “Oh God, please no.” He nodded giddily. “I’m never going to Russia. Maybe I’d consider it during Summer, but--anyway, that’s not the point here! I didn’t break any promises so I won’t be turning into a popsicle this year. Got that?” 

He pouted. “Aw...” 

“You damn sadist.” 

“Hehe.” 

“I wonder how you even became friends with him. Arthur, was it? Poor dude.” You mumbled, but he didn’t look all too offended. 

He tapped his chin and hummed. “Now that you mention it.” Then, he let out a short laugh. “It’s a long story. Let’s just say it was a happy little accident.”

“Unfortunate.” 

“But don’t worry! I don’t plan on bothering you as much as him today.” Ivan clarified, earning a slow nod from you. Phew. The clock was inching closer to eight and you weren’t much of a morning person, so hearing that was like music to your ears. “That’s why I wanted you to finish your work yesterday. I want him to be the only one making mistakes! It’s interesting to see him mess up and get embarrassed.” 

You had to wonder if he was using ‘interesting’ as a synonym for fun because he was clapping. “... Ivan, you really are a sadist.” 

The two of you stayed in that café for another hour or so, ordering some breakfast during your stay. Once the table was cleared and the bill was paid, you and he caught a bus to the London eye. You could marvel at the iconic ferris wheel for a few minutes as you walked up to the London aquarium next to it, your first stop. The building was huge to start with, and it didn’t look like they’d be storing fish in there considering how fancy it was. But wasn’t everything in England fancy? 

“He should be waiting in the front. Look for a short grouchy man with a bad taste in fashion.” You shot him a weird look, beckoning him to elaborate. 

“... And blonde hair.”

“Alright. I guess I’ll try my best.” Glancing around the sea of people filled with tourists, couples, and families, you skimmed the crowd for someone who fitted the description--but to no avail. It was only when they walked up to you both did you find the guy. He had short and choppy blonde hair that framed a heart-shaped face, and under his fringe was a pair of lime green eyes staring on with a neutral expression. And did Ivan say he had bad taste?

You couldn’t agree. Yes, his charcoal pants were ripped and he had a bandana tied around his neck with a Union Jack on it. But he still had a kind of style you liked. Under his black leather jacket was a gray shirt, and combined with the piercings in his right ear, you couldn’t help admiring him for a second. 

“Arthur! I was wondering if you were trampled because we couldn’t find you.” Ivan began, causing the said man to furrow his brows. And boy, were they thick. 

“You just arrived, so don’t start now you twat.” He grumbled. Ivan never teased you for your height, even when you were a little shorter than the Brit. He always found it cute, but you figured it was only because you didn’t care. The Russian always found amusement in poking fun at others, after all. “Anywho, I’m glad I won’t be spending the whole day alone with you.” 

Turning to you with a soft smile this time, he held out a hand for you to shake. “Kirkland. Arthur Kirkland.” 

You shook it, but not without a laugh. It hadn’t even been a minute since meeting him, and his personality seemed to clash violently with his appearance. He sounded so prim and proper, but his outfit screamed punk rock. 

“(L/N). (F/N) (L/N).” 

He released you from his grip. Placing his hands on his hips with an accusing stare, he felt a grin upturn his lips. “Are you copying me, (F/N)?” 

“I don’t know. Do all British people introduce themselves like James Bond?” 

Arthur clicked his tongue. “... Not all of them. Just a force of habit.” 

“Mhm. Right, right. Well, it’s nice to meet you, Arthur. I’m a student here too and I could only imagine how busy it gets for you--so thanks for coming out today!” He didn’t respond to those comments and simply nodded. 

Ivan stayed quiet in the back, but he was probably reading the atmosphere like he always did when he didn’t speak. 

“It’s nice to meet you too.” The blonde turned on his heel and closed his eyes. “As much as I’d like to stay out here and chat, we can do that in the aquarium. Wouldn’t wanna waste our tickets, do we?” 

While the group of three wandered slowly through the establishment, Ivan lingered in the background while you walked in the front with the Brit. For the first ten minutes, you’d look at him expectantly, gesturing for him to join in the conversation. As the mutual, wasn’t he supposed to be the icebreaker? He’d shake his head every time, offering you a smile as if to say, go and make some friends. But soon, this brief spell of irritation morphed into gratitude.

“I’ve been here probably a hundred times, so don’t take it personally when I don’t seem as excited as you.” Turning to him to watch his face as he spoke--which was filtered through a bluish tinge from the Antarctic setting-- you only caught a brief glimpse of it before he turned away. Huh. Maybe it was just you not paying enough attention. 

Either way, what came out of your mouth next would surely grab his. 

“Don’t worry about it. But hey, this is the first time you’ve been here with me, so look alive, won’t you?” It happened to be a slip of the tongue, something bold and improvised, but luckily, he reacted fairly quickly before the regret set in.

“Oi, you better not be flirting with me already,” Arthur grumbled, feeling another smile come as he heard you chuckle. Since when was he this expressive? He pinned it on the fact that he was starting to have a little fun himself. 

“Couldn’t imagine it.” Before he could add anything else, you hopped in front of the penguins and started waving your friend over with great gusto. “Ivan, c’mere. Arthur, mind taking a photo of us?” Once he joined your side, the two of you held up peace signs for the Brit to snap a photo. 

“Ivan, change your pose. We can’t have both of you doing the same thing.” 

The said man moved his peace sign to the back of your head so he could stick two fingers over it. “Is that better?”

“... Better.” Trailing his emerald eyes to you, he felt his cheeks heat up a touch at the sight of you grinning ear to ear. What the fuck, Arthur. Just take the damn photo. And that was exactly what he did, showing you both right after. Whatever just happened, he boiled it down to him idealizing a stranger. That was right. He had yet to get to know you, so his perception of you couldn’t be any better at this stage. 

But there was one thing he couldn’t deny.

“Damn, I look really ugly in this. You two better not post this anywhere.” You settled a hand over the screen to lower it with a nervous laugh. Then, you looked away, and what was that? You looked a little flustered. 

You were cute.

Hanging his head to look at the photo, he knitted his brows together. You? Ugly? He couldn’t imagine it. 

“... I bet I could take an even uglier one of you.”

Spinning back to him, you folded your arms. “What did you say?” 

“Nothing.” He shook his head slowly, and the amusement in his voice made it blatantly obvious he was lying. 

“That’s what I thought.” 

Walking off at that, Ivan followed. Because he was behind him, he could brush his shoulders against his. Arthur looked up at that, but almost wished he didn’t. Ivan was smiling down at him so shrewdly, it was threatening. Then, he raised a hand to his mouth so he could laugh softly. “Huhu. You like (F/N)~” 

His eyes flew open and blood rushed up to his face. “What the hell gave you that impression? I literally just met them!” As adamant as he sounded, he knew deep inside he liked you, but only platonically. Your personality was refreshing, and talking to you was as easy as breathing. Even if it wasn’t platonic attraction, he was endlessly frustrated the other figured it out earlier than he could. 

Whatever it was, he was certainly more sociable than usual, even to the point of being a tease. And not to mention the rosy cheeks. Maybe he should’ve just kept his trap shut--otherwise, his huge outburst let Ivan milk the obvious. Fuck. He even started to giggle like a schoolchild. 

Giving him a rough shove, he muttered a string of curses under his breath.  “I bloody hate your arse, you know that?” He hissed, his face now redder than a tomato. God, why he did have to be born so pale? Every slight change to his complexion was jarring, and it was embarrassing. 

“Don’t hate me because I’m right,” Ivan hummed, joining his side as your back came into view. “Once you realize, it’ll be too late. I’m not letting you have (F/N). I will always be (F/N)’s number one.” Lighting up at that, he skipped off to you in the front. “Wait for me, sunflower! Don’t leave me alone with Arthur!”

Arthur stopped in his tracks and clenched his fists. How annoying. If he was going to continue being a little tyke, then he figured he’d up his game as well. He didn’t know what that exactly entailed yet, but he’d do it. Ivan didn’t even sound like he wanted anything more than friendship, so what was with that? Pointing a finger at him as he walked off with you, his face scrunched up. 

“What did you even call me out for then, you idiot? I’m supposed to be guiding you both!” Picking up his pace at that, he slotted himself between you and him. Flashing you a brief smile, he gave Ivan another push without breaking eye contact. “It’s a tight fit for three, so he’ll stay in the back.” 

“Hey, no fair!” 

By the time the whole aquarium was toured, you and Arthur were laughing to yourselves while leaving through the exit. 

But the joyful atmosphere was short-lived. 

The Ferris wheel just outside was the next stop, and the Brit offered to splurge a little to have a carriage without strangers. That way, you could run around as much as you wanted, even if that meant leaving the two men to sit in their lonesome. While Ivan was sitting on the bench in the centre out of his own volition, the same couldn’t be said for him. 

Sitting back to back to the other, he pressed his legs firmly together and leaned over in a hunch. Then, he dug his hands through his hair, all while keeping his round eyes fixated on the ground. His heart couldn’t stop pounding, and his head was spinning like a carousel. What was he thinking, taking you here? That was right. This was an iconic destination you couldn’t miss, that was why. He was initially planning on staying back there on the ground, but you were so excited, he couldn’t help but hop on with you. 

Fuck. Maybe Ivan was right about him. But he wouldn’t let him know it. Speaking of the guy, he didn’t know if he was sitting there by choice, or just rubbing it in. While he was incapacitated by fear so he couldn’t even stand, he was sitting there because he wanted to. 

“You should’ve stayed on the ground if this was going to happen.” 

Arthur screwed his eyes shut and tightened his arms around his stomach. “... Shut up.” 

“I was just saying.” Ivan murmured, looking at him over his shoulder. Poor guy. He really was down bad, wasn’t he? Down bad for you, that was. Too bad Arthur was hoping he wasn’t convinced--but it was too obvious. So all Ivan wanted was to prove his point, and later on, keep you away from him. But maybe he’d save it until after the ride was over. “... This ride is thirty minutes long. You’ll live.” 

He heard the other groan. “Thirty minutes? How long has it been?” 

“Mm... Ten.” 

“Fuck me.” 

Unfortunately, it wouldn’t be long before you would pull away from the railing and return to the company of the two. Arthur had been praying that somehow, you’d leave him alone sitting there, pathetically, but he couldn’t expect something so cold from you. So while he hung his head, he wasn’t surprised to feel your hand on his shoulder. 

“Hey, you okay?” He heard you ask, but he never looked up. 

“... Yeah. Just give me a minute.” 

“I have. Ten, actually.” Taking a seat beside him, you leaned down to peer at his face, which was a few shades paler than normal. He didn’t even have the energy to respond, and kept his eyes fixed to the ground. Concern immediately contorted at your features, especially when he looked so shaken. “Arthur, you look a little sick. What’s wrong? Can you talk?” 

He shook his head slowly before managing a weak smile at you. “Sorry, love.” It didn’t even faze him he just called you that. He was far too uncomfortable to feel the embarrassment from a nickname he should’ve saved until a little later. 

“I’m not... Too good with heights. Never have been... I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.” His voice was slow and faint, and you were beginning to suspect he was having a panic attack. “... Sorry if I seem a little lame.” 

“No, of course not.” You frowned. “Things like this happen. Just breathe with me, okay? You can do it. Just count to ten.” 

Arthur took a deep inhale. “... Okay.” 

Around ten minutes later of these exchanges, he calmed down some, especially when you kept on reminding him that the carriage was finally descending. Once the ride was over, you had to help him up and walk him out. Now that he had his two feet planted firmly on the ground, it didn’t take long for him to recover. Even then, you remained rather cautious and stuck with him on your journey to Soho. By the time everyone took their seats in Circolo Popolare, a beautiful Italian restaurant Arthur so kindly booked, you were still looking out for him.

Leaning over to rest your head on the table, you glanced up at his face with a soft smile. “... You okay now?” 

A light blush dusted his cheeks and he nodded. You didn’t need to be this observant with him considering he was well now, but he loved your attentiveness. It wasn’t something he was used to. “Yeah, I’m fine now. Thank you. Now quit worrying about me, alright?” Rubbing the nape of his neck at that, you couldn’t help lingering on his body language for a moment.

It didn’t matter what he dressed like, or what his personality was. He could be endearing when it came to it, and a total softie too. And the thought made you smile even wider. If he thought you were cute, then you thought he was adorable. “Fine. I’ll leave you alone.” You slowly turned to Ivan, the action making Arthur tense up a little. 

Reaching out to your hand, he took it. “I didn’t mean it like that.” 

The feeling of his warm fingers around yours made your heart skip a beat. Did he just? Your thoughts manifested into your look of shock, and you darted your eyes over his neutral expression to try and decipher it. Before you could come up with anything, there was a phone in your face, followed by a flash. 

“Wha--?” 

He turned the screen to you to reveal a photo of you, and in your opinion, it was the least flattering picture anybody had ever taken of you. “I said I’d take an uglier photo of you, didn’t I?” Arthur grinned, the words acting like a cold splash of water to bring you back to reality. 

“... You sneaky little shit.” You growled. “Delete that right now!” 

“How about no?” 

“I’ll never forgive you for this, Arthur.” 

“I think you already have, love. You’re smiling right now.” 

You stared at him wordlessly for a few seconds. Then, out of nowhere, you reached out to snatch his phone right out of his hands. Tapping furiously on the screen to get rid of it, you heard his chair scrape back violently as he tried to retrieve it. “Why, you--” 

But it was too late. Gone forever. Lost in the abyss of cyberspace. And so, he immediately channelled his frustration by jabbing his fingers into your sides. “If I can’t have that photo of you, at least let me do this!” You burst into a fit of laughter so loud, nearby patrons turned their heads. Only then did he pull away, leaving you to recover through breathless wheezing. 

“Fuck you, Arthur.” You whispered, but it was on an affectionate note more than anything. As you glowered at him from your seat, you never noticed Ivan doing the same thing, but he was glaring at the Brit for an entirely different reason. Arthur had to be the most self-aware person out there, and to make a scene in a restaurant like this? He really fell for you, didn’t he? 

When he realized Ivan’s scorching gaze burning into him, he froze. 

Not just out of how intimidated he was, but the epiphany that he was right all along. Why else was he acting so out of character? The only explanation was this--in the short time of being with you, he may or may not have developed a little crush. But that was no problem, right? 

All he needed to do was to ask you out. 

But that would prove a task easier said than done, especially when Ivan decided to attach himself to you by the hip after that stunt. That cunning bastard knew what he was doing. After a little window shopping around Bond street and Mayfair, he stuck to you like a tattoo, and kept it up until night fell. While the group walked around Camden, Ivan kept you by his side with a firm grip on your hand. 

When you asked why he was suddenly so clingy, he simply justified it with, “It’s dangerous for small people like you to wander around at night!” 

But Arthur called bullshit. Especially when the other went ahead and smirked at him right after saying it. Maybe he liked you too, but was refusing to admit it. How hypocritical. If not, then he probably didn’t want you making friends when you were the only friend he had. Whatever it was, he wasn’t about to back down so easily. Camden may be the last destination for the night, and perhaps, the last time he’d see you again for God knows how long, but it was his trump card.

If this didn’t sweep you off your feet enough to get you to pull away from Ivan, nothing would. 

As a town famous for its thriving nightlife and punk culture, it encompassed everything he was passionate about, and he’d give anything to show it to you. So he included a visit to the bar here on the agenda today, one that hosted live music. While you and Ivan got comfortable in your seats, Arthur never made a move to sit down. 

It was already dim inside, so you never noticed him leave. The next time you saw him, it was a few minutes later when he was on stage with a few other musicians. Leaning forward with surprise, you watched him strap on a bright red electric guitar. Walking up to the microphone, he adjusted that. No way. 

You were still trying to process him being a professional performer, but a lead singer as well? 

The second he strummed the strings to start a guitar riff, he opened his mouth to start singing.

Play this while you read

undefined

Show me how to lie, you're getting better all the time

And turning all against the one is an art that's hard to teach

His fingers never stopped moving as he belted out note after note. His voice was so different to how he talked, you had to do a double take. He sounded a little more rasp, a little more punk. To say you were impressed was an understatement. 

Now dance, fucker, dance, man, he never had a chance

And no one even knew it was really only you

While he jammed out on stage, he was electric. The energy in the bar exploded, and he had everyone singing along. You could almost see the confidence in him shoot up from the excitable crowd, because he was smirking. 

Nice work, you did. 

You’re gonna go far, kid! 

Turning his head to you as he sung that line, you raised a hand to your mouth. Whether he did that on purpose or not was a mystery. But no words could describe how attractive it was. Hell, it even made you mind blank for a few moments. This was Arthur? He was like an entirely different person! Needless to say, you were completely star struck. 

You couldn’t even make out what Ivan was telling you when the music was blaring in your ears. But you didn’t care. Arthur had you caught in a trance with his voice and guitar all until the end. When the song finally ended, the band bowed graciously and threw up hand signs as the audience erupted in applause and cheers. 

When he stepped off the stage, you didn’t hesitate to run up to him. There, you practically pounced on him for a tight embrace. “Oh my god, you were amazing! I didn’t know you could play so well! And sing, too! Why didn’t you tell me!?” You exasperated, pulling away to be met with his dazzling smile. It was the first time you’ve seen him so energetic, as if performing sparked a fire inside him that burned with youthful intensity. 

“I was dying to show you all day. I wanted it to be a surprise, and I had to save the best til’ last, didn’t I?” He grinned, feeling his heart swell up with warmth as he watched you light up. 

“Well, good on you! I loved it!” Squeezing him again, you felt his chest shake under his laughs. When you pulled away, you reached up to cup his face. But it felt so natural in the spur of the moment, even he didn’t seem to care. 

“Thanks again for today, Arthur. I really appreciate you taking us out today. You completely blew me away.”

The way how you phrased it reminded him of why he was here in the first place. That was right. He still had to ask you out. And with Ivan watching on from afar, this was his chance. The thought reddened his cheeks, but while you had his face in your hands, he couldn’t feel more comfortable. “Is that so? If that’s the case, how about I take you out again?” His expression grew serious. “A proper date, I mean.” 

It was your turn to blush, but you managed a quick answer. 

“No need to look so serious, love. Of course I’ll go on a date with you.” 

He chuckled and leaned in to peck your lips. “Stealing my vocabulary now, are we?” 

“Stealing kisses now, are we?” 

“Touché.” 

Now a third wheel of the group, he breathed out a soft sigh and rested his cheek on his hand. “I guess my job here is done.” It didn’t really look like it, but he had been trying to play the wingman all along. Arthur was always one to go a little crazy when he wanted something, and only more so when he was desperate. So all he gave him was a little push in the right direction. 

Maybe he would thank him later, but for now, he’d leave you two be. 

This is a request. Thank you for requesting.

[princess-from-another-galaxy]

Sorry, This one's gonna be a long one cause nobody I know in real life cares about kpop.you don't have to answer, it's just a rant😅. But the way my heart dropped while reading all the debunking evidence in the link you sent.

I only got into kpop like a few months ago but of course past scandals pop up and like getting into stray kids obviously you discover the woojin scandal. For some reason that case and soojin's case are just haunting (maybe I'm too emotional).

And honestly it's frightening and sickening any random person can ruin some else's career simply because they have decided they don't like this person, or were bored. And they delete their accusations online and even say they were bored which is just psychotic behaviour.

What's even worse than that is it actually works! They do manage to hurt an idols reputation forever. Like yeah others say SM might be working behind the scenes and will eventually take action, but while they silently "work behind the scenes" an idol's carefully crafted reputation gets publicly destroyed. Idk if the situation will be resolved this year but the blatantly racist remarks, cyberbullying and "jokes" will follow lucas for a long time and it's just so frustrating to watch.

Why is it so easy to screw over an idol. As if idols don't go through enough from their own companies, fans, general public(being overworked, or ignored completely, extreme dieting not allowed to date or behave like a human with a personalitysometimes)...like the least they can do is publicly protect their idols who make them money. Writing an apology letter and disappearing cannot work every single time. "If it isn't broke don't fix it" well this method is horribly broken, find a new formula. Why hire lawyers for a company and not publicly make statements about investigations and taking action whether it's true or false?? Isn't that the normal thing to do?💀💀

It's just such a 180 for an international fan because cheating and bullying, while absolutely bad are not incentives to cancel someone over.

And hate the fact that fake r*pe and SA allegations get the spotlight and get heard whole real victims are attacked, made fun of or simply ignored. These topics are serious yet are dismissed and someone lying about it just makes them into a bigger joke and harder for victims to get some justice. Really just hate how warped it all is in general, not just in the music industry.

It's also weird because now that I hear it's common for someone to come out with someone when nct plans to release something, I'm more anxious than excited for nct 127's comeback but I hope it successfully happens. And I feel like wayv will still exist because of the SM schedule you also posted (bless you for continously having links and posts and giving us hope it might publiclyand drastically change by Decemberor even next year).

It's just overall frustrating I guess? Because liking SM foreign kpop idols seems to be more of an emotional rollercoaster ride than anything (e.g💀they seem to be locked up in the dungeon , looking at you winwin and shotaro). Like SM is terrible at promoting their idols but wow it's even worse for second gen idols and foreign idols. That's why we love the SM artists not the whole company itself because music companies all over the world are just....wow to say the least.

In conclusion, I just hope lucas is okay and that when things get publicly cleared he'll still be the loud, chaotic talented guy he is. And that when he comes back he isn't bullied or attacked for still being in nct, wayv and superm. Too many antis are enjoying being on the bandwagon when it comes to nct.

Aww, anon, I want to give you a hug...

I agree with every single thing you said.

I'm glad the links and stuff I post make you feel better, I spend a lot of time on Twitter and reddit looking for stuff and checking for updates.

The thing about those antis that are saying those things about Lucas (and will keep saying them regardless of what is proven) is that they were never really fans. They were the people who claimed to be fans and then made colorist "jokes" and insulted him and when they were called out for it, deleted their tweets and just retweeted those things on priv...

From now on regardless of what happens the truth is that most of these people will keep believing that he did these things. I saw a Woojin TikTok today (it showed up on my fyp) and half the comments were questioning why he could continue his career, completely ignoring (or just bring new fans and going by what they hear from other fans) that he has been proven innocent by the Seoul police department....

I hope Lucas's is ok, and that things can go back to normal soon.

(sorry if I sound weird I just got my 2nd shot of the vaccine and it gave me a killer headache)

[the-silentium]

Here we go again

Masterlist - Murphy day - Part 2

Before I introduce you to my story, please note that Fors is an Original planet. I do not give permission to people to use it for their own fics, the planet, the animals, the Nightmares, the lore or anything related to Fors. Thank you.

Pairing: Bad Batch x Reader

Words: 3661 words

Warnings: Hurting animals (predators, don’t worry).

A/N: This is going to be insane. It’ll get gory (not in this chap, but we’ll get there). 

Taglist: @haloangel391​ (still want to be tagged?) + Tag list open

_____________________

"This," Tech paused to find the right words to not insult you once more. "went rather good considering it's your first time." He met your gaze, clearly concentrating on your body language to see if you were insulted or not.

You stared back at him blankly, eyebrow raised, hands joined on your lap. You turned your chair to face him completely and moved forward to get your elbows on your knees, never breaking the eye contact. 

"Cut the crap. Say what you wanted to say." 

"Two things." He immediately followed like the words were dying to leave his lips. "One, this should have been a lot more chaotic. Two, there was no way you actually never flew a ship before." His eyes squinted like this would press the info out of you.

"You accusing me of lying?" You remained stoic, not letting him know yet about your little secret and actually making him squirm in his seat. 

"No!" He straightened in his seat, frowning in confusion as if you'd just slapped him. In the background, you could hear footsteps getting closer to the cockpit door. 

"Are you?" He continued, uncertain.

"No." 

"For a second I doubted it was you piloting." Hunter entered, followed by Wrecker who stood right behind him. "Very good for a first flight." 

"Yeah! We could tell it wasn't Tech because of the landing! It was too smooth." Wrecker chimed in to his smaller brother's dismay. 

"Thanks." You answered with a nod at the same time Tech yelled his indignation. 

"She cheated!" 

"And how can you cheat at piloting a ship?" Crosshair snickered at the apparent attempt to keep his reputation of best pilot of the Marauder. Apparently you were promising enough to be a threat. This was interesting. 

"Tech. She doesn't have a droid. She couldn't cheat." Hunter pointed out, confused. 

"She said she didn't fly a ship before! It clearly isn't the case!" His hands moved around to prove his point, almost causing you to burst out laughing. 

"Again with accusing me of lying?" You inquired innocently. 

"No! I'm not-" 

"You just did." The sniper smirked, enjoying the show. 

Shiny decided to join the troop at this moment, passing its head under Wrecker's big hand for some pat. Your heart squeezed at the prospect that the tiny baby wouldn't be around anymore. He was so sweet. 

"But you can't learn that from the books!"

"I didn't lie." You chuckled, your attention back to the discussion. One of your hands found the engineer's pauldron to calm him down. "I never flew a ship before. Hell, I've never used a blaster before! This planet is still using bows and arrows."  

You heard a snort on your right, clearly coming from the grey-haired trooper, but your eyes were fixed to Tech's who was still trying to get how the hell you managed to get the hang of flying a ship so quickly. You were sure it took hours of training to be able to fly to the GAR standards and you knew you didn't reach these standards. Yet. But it didn't stop your first performance to be quite good, or so it seemed. 

"You're right. I read all the books and they couldn't have prepared me enough." He nodded, already knowing that he was right, waiting for you to continue with barely contained impatience. 

"Remember the trooper who shared my room for a while? Blast?" You didn't wait for him to answer your question before getting to the part of his interest. "He's a gunship pilot. He taught me what to be aware of, what to look for, how to react in what situation, and other stuff." 

You smiled sweetly at his goggled eyes, batting your eyelashes innocently. 

"See? Not a liar. Just resourceful." 

His eyes grew wide in panic, almost making you panic. 

"You blew your cover of being a trained pilot!" Oh. You rolled your eyes in all playfulness, noticing how the rest of the team tensed at his words. 

" 'm not that dumb Techie." You resisted the urge to boop his nose in front of everyone. "Told him I was used to starfighters and not gunships. Wasn't used to the big extra weight behind my ass. He bought it and helped me 'adjust'." You finished by making quotation marks in the air, happy to see his face crumble in relief. 

"It's okay Tech. You're still the best pilot between the two of us." You patted his shoulder and got to your feet, a new energy in your steps as you made your way to the back of the ship. 

You looked around for your knife, going to the last place you remember seeing it; the barracks. Only, you found the beds to be totally empty and your knife was unexpectedly nowhere to be seen in the living area too. Maybe one of the boys had it, you thought. Before you went to ask them, it flashed into your mind. You remembered sliding it into the slot at the side of your boot. You lightly hit your forehead with your palm. Oops. You could keep that to yourself.

You heard the boys argue for a bit, Wrecker laughing at the whole exchange, your lips stretching at his contagious joy. They finally settled, the silence making it obvious that their small discussion was over, so you made your way to the door of the ship. 

"All ready to go drop off our lil' friend." You announced as they joined you, pressing the button to open the door. 

Tech handed you a small device with a flashing round circle as soon as he was within arms reach. 

"What's that?" You took the device, turning it around to inspect it. 

"An improved comm link. If by some bad luck we get separated, we'll still be able to reach you. It is set to our team frequency. Press this button to talk." He pointed at the no-longer-flashing circular button. 

"So I can't dirty talk Hunter." You said in the device, and you could hear your voice echoing from all their helmets under their arms. 

"Definitely not." He deadpanned, disgusted. Wrecker laughed whole-heartedly, one of his hands slapping the back of your right shoulder that moved forward under his strength, Hunter smirked in your direction with a delicious glint in his eyes while Crosshair rolled his eyes and put his helmet on. 

"Fiiiine." You fake whined, eyes and head rolling like a kid before inviting them to get off the ship with a movement of your hands presenting them the outside world. "After you, gentlemen." 

Scoffing, Hunter pulled his helmet on and walked down the steps, followed by the rest of the batch. 

"Good job Y/N!" Wrecker eagerly presented you his fist, to which you keenly answered with a hit of your smaller fist. He descended the stairs to regroup with his team. 

Smiling, you noted that they were fully armored, armed and alert, surely not trusting the fauna around to stay at bay. You found that deep inside, it made you feel safer to have them by your side. 

You pocketed the comm link in one of your deepest pockets before following suit, arms wide at your side to bathe in the warmth of the slowly retiring sun while you could. Space, you'd realized, was terribly cold. 

Tall trees reached high in the blue sky, the green grass grew as far as you could see, a warm breeze stroked your face and all in all, you found yourself not relaxing like you expected. You thought that you'd feel better to be in known-ish territory as opposed to a cold military base, but your mind couldn't find ease. Not even slightly. Maybe it was PTSD following your last experience on Murphy Day. You deeply hoped this was the explanation. 

You made sure that you landed the ship far enough from the Forsian hunting territories and the Waytree, the prospect of meeting one of your peers wasn't very tempting and if you could avoid meeting another Basilisk, you'd definitely take it. The Marauder was now in wild territory, far enough that even you hadn't ventured that far in your exploratory trips, about a couple of hours of walk away from your native village, just enough to stay undetected.

You joined the group, smiling at seeing Shiny running into the greenery, glad that at least one of you was happy to be back. 

Wrecker and Crosshair went ahead, closer to the line of trees to search for predators of some sort, their movements frightening small sunbathing Jerboas that fled back into the jungle. 

"We'll have to do it quick. Can't be here when the sun's down." You informed the sergeant who nodded in understanding. 

Or at least, some understanding. Like everyone else, he must have deduced that this planet was even more dangerous at night. If only he knew to what extends. Or maybe it was best for him not to know. 

"Clear." Came Crosshair's voice from your pocket. 

"All cl-" Wrecker started before his sentence finished in a yelp of surprise. 

All at once, four heads turned towards his position, quick enough to see his torso and helmet disappear into the ground. 

'Wrecker!" You yelled along with Tech, running to where you last saw him, the remaining commandos barely outrunning you. 

"Stop!" Hunter barked, arms extended at his sides to prevent you all to fall off the cliff, cutting your breath for a second when the blaster in his hand hit your chest full force. 

The ground was crumbling under your combined weights, hurrying you to step back from the edge. You dropped on your stomach to redistribute your weight and peer at the open space below. Making sure this time that only your head poked over the edge and nothing else. A hand gripped the back of your shirt in haste, like you would ever decide to throw yourself off a precipice. Again. 

Wrecker sat there on his ass surrounded by trees, passing a hand over his helmet in confusion. You finally took a deep breath in when you registered that he was moving. 

"You okay there?" You yelled with your hands around your mouth, the others replicating your position at your sides to look down, the hand on your back still closed around the fabric. 

"All good." He looked up, flashing you a thumbs up. 

Bending your head to look under you, your blood ran cold as you took in the really thin plate of ground kept together by roots and nothing else. There were only a very few inches of dirt supporting your bodies, creating a gap between the part of the cliff Wrecker could climb and the edge where you all laid on. 

"He can't climb up." You rotated your head to the side at Crosshair's comment and saw the ground disappearing two clicks further down. You landed on a weird ravine top of some sort. 

Your breathing picked up in pace as the image of the sun licking the top of the trees reached your brain, pushing back to the front of your mind all your survival instinct adapted to the hard life on your planet. 

"We have to get him. Quick." Your eyes were fixed to the sun, muscles tensed. 

How long before the last rays warmed the ground? How long until you weren't protected anymore? 45 minutes? A bit less? 

"What's wrong?" Hunter questioned, bringing you back to the land of the living. He looked worried, maybe it was caused by the panic in your voice. Or the fact that your skin paled significantly in a matter of seconds. Or maybe it was both. 

You got on your knees before bolting toward the line of trees, evading the hand clutched around your shirt to look for a spot where the cliff met your own ground. Yells of your name were muffled by your loud frenetic thoughts, warnings to not stay outside at dusk, stories of what roamed the darkness on the other side of the gigantic fence protecting the village, drawings of terrifying creatures that haunted your nights for years.  

You jumped at the something closing on your shoulder, instinct kicking in to lift your hand to threaten the intruder. You were as surprised at Tech when you saw the hunting knife in your hand, the blade almost pressed against his neck. 

"Calm down!" A sharp order reached your ears as a hand pulled your wrist away from the tender skin. 

"S-sorry Tech." Your voice shook as much as your hand, your grip tightening around the handle of the blade.  

"What's wrong? Talk to us!" Hunter ordered again, invading your line of sight. 

"We have to be gone before dusk. We can't survive a night outside." You rushed, eyes lifting to the darkening sky between the leaves. 

"Why?" He pressed, tension building. 

"We are losing time! We have 20 minutes tops to find him and all get our way back to the ship." You turned around to continue your search of a way to get to your teammate. 

"What happens at dusk?" Tech inquired, joining your sides and matching your quick pace. 

"They come out, Tech." You whispered, almost scared to say it out loud in fear that they would appear at their mention. 

"What's 'they'?" Crosshair grumbled, completely done with your nonsense. He seemed unbothered, but you knew your stress was affecting him too, his gun at the ready was secured in a tight grip while his helmet scanned the trees meticulously. 

"Apex predators." You shuddered, the drawing of an Algax invading your mind. 

You noticed Shiny wandering a bit farther ahead, his horns illuminating a couple of Furants watching the group closely. The feline-like owls were perched on low branches, the green light reflecting over their dark feathers and four legs armed with sharp talons. Their ears and eyes followed your movements, their tail intertwined to keep the other close. 

They flew away in silence when Wrecker's voice boomed from your comm link. 

"I hear weird laughs all around." He sounded worried, some of said laughs could be heard in the background. 

As if this situation wasn't already bad! You definitely could have done without Wrecker being surrounded by a pack of vicious opportunist predators.

"Shoot 'em! Check in the trees!" You rushed out. "They'll try to surround you, you can't let them. Run if need be, they're not that fast." You glanced down the edge and huffed in annoyance when it still wasn't close enough to let you jump down to help him. 

"We have to get to him!" You heard the first blaster bolts just below to your right, meaning that Wrecker foolishly ventured the jungle alone on his side when the others started running after you.  

"Wrecker. Continue running North. We'll meet at some point." Hunter ordered. 

"Got that!" 

You jumped over dead trunks, roots and dense patches of tall grass, slalomed between the trees disturbing the small animals tending to their daily routine of surviving the harsh environment and ignored the yelps of Tech tripping over something. 

"Don't shoot that!" You yelled, pointing to the big moss-covered lizard currently digging the ground before you, rushing past it without a care. He barely acknowledged your passage, staying focussed on his task. 

You passed too much time running to your liking, but it all paid off when a very tall tree almost reached your ground level. It was a couple of feet too short, but it definitely was enough for you to jump down to the thick branches below. The top ones weren't strong enough, breaking beneath your feet and scratching your arms slightly. Soon, you reached the level where the wood became thick enough to sustain your weight. You plunged your knife into the trunk to slow down your fall to allow you to grab a branch without dislocating your shoulder and quickly made your way down. 

You heard your name from above, but ignored it. They could make it on their own. Or at least you hoped. 

You heard Wrecker before you saw him, the high pitch snickers and whoops following him closely. He shot some bolts behind him but continued running forward like Hunter ordered him to. He passed below you, not seeing you in the tree but stopped when he heard something fall on the ground behind him. 

You had plunged your knife into one of the Rideat following the clone, stabbing him near the neck as soon as he jumped on your branch to continue its course. It lost balance at the pain, propelling the both of you to the ground. 

You jumped to your feet in milli-seconds, already expertly jumping away from its long clawed prehensile fingers to stab it in the neck. It screeched in pain, jerking it's dangerously powerful back legs forward to push you away and claw at your flesh in the same movement. 

You jumped back and Wrecker used the moment to shoot at the agonizing beast. Groans and grunts resonated all around, brown flashes moving from trees to trees. With your back to Wrecker's, you analyzed their pattern, lifted your hand and threw your knife to where you were sure the brown Rideat would jump next. Its body hit the ground, stunning it long enough for the trooper to shoot it down. 

With snarls, the others retreated, leaving the scene as swiftly as they came. 

"Those things are ugly!" Wrecker let out when you pulled your knife out of the canine-bat's shoulder. 

"They are." 

You pushed the body with your foot, cautious of any movement on its end, they were known to fake dead after all. Its long front legs were motionless just like its smaller back legs. 

When it's large sensitive protrusions on its scapulas didn't move, you allowed yourself to breathe. 

"You okay?" You turned to Wrecker who lifted its helmet to wear it as a hat. 

"Yes! Thanks to you, cabur'ika!" 

You frowned at the new nickname. You opened your mouth to ask what it meant when troopers rained from above, landing on their feet like the perfect elite commandos that they were. You were actually surprised that they didn't fall all the way down with their armor. 

"They're gone." You informed them, almost snorting at their weapons moving along the trees. 

"You sure?" Hunter stayed focused on his surroundings. 

"100%. They're opportunist cowards. Always flee when they realize the prey is too strong." You pushed Wrecker's arm playfully at your last word. 

"What's that?" Tech asked, crouched next to one of the bodies. 

"A Rideat." You looked above, trying to discern the sky above the clouds of leaves but failing miserably as this part of the jungle was way too dense. "I'll describe later. We should get back up and leave." 

Unfortunately, the tree was too short for you all to get back up there, so you had to walk further into the jungle to find a way up. This ravine must have a climbable spot somewhere. It had to. 

Each passing second put you more and more on edge, sharpening your senses and reflexes. You heard the pounding of several Jerboas running to safety around you, a young single Loth wolf passed right next to your group, running towards its den. 

You'd spent too much time walking, running and fighting. You were late. Too late. The sun was down and the diurnal animals fled to their secure home to pass the night. Preys and predators alike. 

"We have to follow it!" You yelled, sprinting after the Loth wolf. Maybe it would lead you to a suitable shelter. Please, please, please.

Desperately, you tried to keep sight of it. Running at your fastest, you took every turn it did, jumped every mud puddle it did, but in the end, its four legs were too fast for the two of yours. 

You lost him for a second. It was a second too much. Your blood ran cold when you lost sight it, but you soon spotted the small crack in the rock where it sneaked in to find shelter. 

"No. Nononononono." You shook your head, eyes widening as fear traveled through your body like fire. 

The fissure was too small for anyone to slip in. You were stuck out past daylight. Too far from the ship and too far from the nearest village.

"Stop running off." Hunter grumbled, joining your side. 

You were on the verge of hyperventilating, too much blood was flooding your head, pins poked your fingers, the quick beating in your skull almost made you dizzy. 

"Can't be out at night. Can't." You whispered, reciting the fundamentals of your previous years of survival. "Never leave the village alone. Don't forget your weapon. Return home before dusk."

You had failed. You'd die. You'd die like everyone else that ventured the night. You'd given yourself a death sentence without even returning to the village. How dumb-

"Y/N!" You were shook back and forth for a moment, trying to get you to focus. 

"Calm your breathing. Now!" You heard the order, it was distant and muffled, but you heard it. It was only then that you regained feelings of your own body and forced your erratic lungs to slower their pace. 

Your vision cleared, the sounds in your head vanished, the ringing in your ears faded, your fingers flexed to regain full feeling in them. You were alive. Still alive. Not for lo-

"Good." You blinked at Crosshair, his worried gaze moving over your face like you'd scared him. As if. 

"We have to find shelter." You told them, coming back from your panic attack. Body leaning on the sniper's hand on your shoulder for stability. 

"Remember I told you guys that Fors feeds on beliefs and basically make them real?” You didn’t wait for an answer. “Now what are common beliefs at night?" 

"Monsters." Crosshair deadpanned, eyes reduced to slit. He must think you went downright crazy.

"Blood-thirsty man-eating monsters." You specified to their horror. 

[beewolfwrites]

The Oar in the Sand - Chapter Four: Guessing Games

@cheshiya @tenseoyong @szallejhscorner @something-more-original-please @ofsunsetsandpoetries @nek0dzuken @allozaur @serenzippity

I’m sorry if there’s any typos or mistakes in this. Some chapters are just harder to write, and I end up repeating words over and over haha. If you spot any, do let me know! 

As always, I’ll leave the AO3 link here. And I hope you like it! 

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

The Latin alphabet.

The message could be written in any language from English to Spanish, Czech or even Latin itself.

It could mean anything.

Unlike An, Headband or Pigtails, I had the advantage, and I could still save us. Except I had no idea where to start, and the steady pressure of the game was already settling on my shoulders like a thick fog.  

The Queen was smiling at me from the other gallows. I understood now, the way her eyes had lingered on me back in the reception. She probably hadn’t accounted for a foreigner to be here – after all, her game was intrinsically designed for native Japanese speakers. And yet that smile, the way the corners of her eyes crinkled ever so slightly; she was still confident.

And she should be. She already knows I can’t read morse code.

‘I don’t mean to rush you,’ said Pigtails, ‘but do you think you’ll be able to decode some of it?’ Her previous hope had wilted away, and she was now watching me with apprehension.

The message glared at me from the screen, nonsensical and confusing. The dots and dashes were swarming, melting into one dotted mass that darkened the room. My arms and legs felt detached, swinging from this noose like a doll. So many people had died. The teenage girl, the business man, Pink Scrunchie, countless players accused of being witches... I wasn’t able to save any of them.

And now, four more lives would be added to the list.

‘Stop panicking.’

I jumped at the sharpness of An’s voice. The dots and dashes returned to their screen. My hands and legs were still intact, still moving.

‘Take a deep breath and focus,’ she instructed.

Swallowing, I breathed in and out shakily. My chest felt hollow, and at the same time, it was crawling with jitters. ‘How can you be so calm? 何を知っている分からない.’ I don’t know what I’m doing.

‘Yes, you do. Chishiya brought you to the Beach for a reason.’

Chishiya?

That was why she trusted me?

I couldn’t hold back a bitter laugh; no matter how much I loved him, what he did at the Beach, the way he had almost betrayed me, it was still painful to think about.

‘違う.’ You’re wrong. I didn’t exactly have the vocabulary to explain properly, but I was sure they’d get the gist. ‘苣屋は私を使ってトランプの盗むしていた. それが唯一の理由だった.’ Chishiya was using me to steal the cards. That was the only reason.

An’s lips parted in surprise. Headband and Pigtails were whispering in low voices. I couldn’t quite make out what they were saying, but from their tones it was clear they didn’t think too highly of Chishiya.

‘So that’s what really happened,’ An muttered, filling in the rest of the blanks herself. ‘It was hard to believe Arisu could be capable of doing something like that.’ She shook her head slowly, processing the new information. ‘I suppose it no longer matters, since the Beach is gone now. But Chishiya still made a good decision bringing you to us. I’ve heard about your games, and I believe you’re more capable than you think.’

I remembered my conversation with Chishiya the day before the second stage, when he told me I would be good at Diamonds. Back then, he was wrong. Just looking at the dots and dashes on the screen, I knew this game was beyond me. And yet, it would be nothing more than a simple brainteaser for someone like him.

I wonder, what would he do? How would he approach this game?

I tried to picture his response to a morse code message. I tried to imagine his methods of breaking it down logically. But even so, it was impossible to understand how his brain worked. He was totally different to me. He was rational and analytical, able to uncover a solution to even the most complex situations. All I could do was notice things. I wasn’t Chishiya, nor would I ever be. And right now, was he wandering the streets looking for me? Probably not. Knowing him, he might have even gone straight to the Jack of Diamonds venue.  

No. That can’t be true.

He cared. I knew that. I’d felt his fingers playing with my hair whenever I drifted in and out of sleep during the night. I’d witnessed that unreadable expression of his when he first saw the bruises Niragi left. I’d felt his hands tearing me away from the balcony edge when...

‘If we were in a game together, and say, someone pointed a gun at me, would you do that? As in, would you stand back and watch?’

‘I don’t know.’

My vision glassed over at the memory. Chishiya, you...

You liar.

I rubbed away the tears and tried to hold my chin up higher. ‘みんな、ごめんね. 今大丈夫.’ I’m sorry everyone. It’s okay now.

There were only fifty-two minutes left. The Queen, who had remained silent this whole time, was watching on with a vague, academic intrigue. Despite the pristine neatness of her olive suit and her black shoes, she was relaxed, raising her delicate eyebrows as I looked at her squarely.

‘You said before that you might be able to answer some of our questions, so I want to make a deal.’

‘What kind of deal?’ Her eyes glinted as if I’d just proposed a new game – as if I’d made this even more fun for her.

The drawing of the gallows was still waiting, empty, on the second screen. ‘If we figure out this message and clear the game, you have to answer my questions.’

She took the time to consider it. ‘I suppose that’s fair,’ she said. ‘One of us will die here, so it hardly matters anymore. It’s a deal.’

I’d said those same words to Chishiya, and I had no intention of breaking our promise here in this library. With a little more confidence now, I analysed the coded message closely. Normally in a game of Hangman, vowels were a first choice because of how often they were used. But we could only pick two.

What’s the most used vowel in the Latin alphabet?

Most people would assume it was A, but if I had to make a guess, I’d probably say E. Lots of languages with a Latin alphabet, like French, Spanish and Italian, used words like el, es, e, and est. But if E was the most common vowel, would that make it too obvious a choice?

I chanced a look at the Queen. She was smiling, not in a manipulative or secretive way, but as if she was quietly supporting us from the sidelines. It was peculiar. There was a chance she had purposely avoided E because of how often it was used, and I wouldn’t put it past her – she was still alive for a reason.

So what’s the second most common?

U was a no-go. Out of all the vowels it was definitely the least popular. A would be far too obvious as well. It would have to be a gamble between I and O. There were just forty-eight minutes left, and there was no time to waste hesitating between them.

Pick one, pick one.

‘If it’s okay with everyone,’ I said, ‘I’m going to choose O.’

Pigtails and Headbands looked unsure, most likely because I kept switching languages accidentally. On the other hand, An was open to the idea, replying only with, ‘I trust you.’

I held my breath, transfixed by the dots and dashes before us.

A number of Os appeared, scattered throughout the message; two in the first line, three in the second, four in the third, and one in the fourth. The drawing of the empty gallows remained unchanged.

We did it!

Beside me, Headband exhaled a sigh of relief and murmured a subdued thank you. Much to my surprise, however, the Queen didn’t seem disheartened by our small victory. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she looked pleased for us.

‘A good choice to start with, I must say.’ She clasped her hands together, resting them against her blazer. ‘Unfortunately, you’ve used up one of your vowels, but you seem like smart girls. I’m sure you’ll do well.’

How could she be so happy?

‘Isn’t this a bad thing for you?’ I asked. ‘Aren’t you worried?’

‘Should I be? There’s no good or bad,’ she countered, ‘just two perspectives.’

She’s a gamemaster, isn’t she? She set up these games, and she’ll die here if we win.

‘But we’re your enemy...’

She smiled warmly once more. ‘I think you’ll find we’re on the same side.’

On the same side? I didn’t understand. It didn’t make sense at all. ‘What do y—’

‘Don’t bother.’ An took off her sunglasses, openly assessing the Queen. ‘She’s intentionally wasting our time.’

She was right. The clock was now on forty-seven minutes, and the Queen seemed to be particularly skilled at raising more questions than she answered. I could interrogate her about all of this once we’d cleared the game – some things took priority. I focused my concentration on the code, trying to find some kind of hint or pattern there.

.-.   ..   -.   --. / .- / .-.   ..   -.   --. / O / .-.   o   ...   .   ...

.- / .--.   o   -.-.   -.-   .   - / ..-.   ..-   .-..   .-.. / o   ..-. / .--.   o   ...   ..   .   ...

.- / -   ..   ...   ....   o   o / .- / -   ..   ...   ....   o   o

.--   . / .-   .-..   .-.. / ..-.   .-   .-..   .-.. / -..   o   .--   -.

From what I could see, the O in the first line was capitalised. It was a standalone word – usually that would mean the word was either archaic, or it was in another language. But the Os in the third line were even more curious. The morse symbols repeated themselves twice, with the Os hinting at what could only be either onomatopoeia, or again, archaic terminology.

‘What do you think?’ Pigtails asked.

My eyes scanned the repetitions in the third line. There was something off about it. Words didn’t usually repeat themselves twice in a row like that... unless they were poetic. It would certainly explain why the O was alone in the top line, and why this message was carefully constructed with line breaks in the first place.

If it’s poetry, I might have heard it before.

Headband perked up suddenly. ‘What about going with the most common characters?’

By characters, she must’ve meant letters. I still didn’t know what language the message was in, so I could only use the letters I knew rather than those with accents. Although, playing Hangman as a child, there were always certain letters that wielded the best chance of success.

‘Let’s go with M,’ I said at last. There was usually at least one hiding somewhere. The four of us looked at the screen in anticipation. My fists clenched at my sides as I willed for an M to appear in the mix.

The screen changed.

The wrong screen. A circle appeared below the noose in the drawing. The hangman now had a head.

I could feel the others looking at me, aware that they had put their trusted me and I had let them down. ‘I’m sorry...’ I told them. ‘I’m sorry. ごめん.’

A hand lightly squeezed my shoulder. ‘It’s okay,’ Headband said. ‘We’ve still got more tries.’

Pigtails stepped as close as the noose would allow. ‘This was going to happen at some point. And at least now we know which characters aren’t there. It narrows down the possible words.’

There was silence from An. Perhaps she was disappointed in me, or even regretting her decision to let me captain this game. I wouldn’t blame her if that was the case. I felt the same way, only my regret was stained with guilt too. If I couldn’t save the three of them, at least I would die too. At least I would get what I deserved.

I glanced up at the timer. Forty-five minutes until someone gets sent to the gallows. I couldn’t let it be them.

I can’t lose control of myself like this.

‘You’ve used up one of your ten consonants,’ the Queen reminded us, steady and composed as always. ‘As a word of advice, relying on an age-old strategy doesn’t necessarily work.’

Every time the Queen opened her mouth, she only confused me more. And judging from An’s response, I wasn’t the only one to feel that way. ‘Why should we listen to your advice? Our failure is your win.’

‘Maybe you shouldn’t,’ the Queen replied. ‘But I’ll leave it up to you to decide.’

She didn’t sound like she was purposely trying to mislead us, but that in itself could be what made it so misleading. Most people tend to gravitate towards common letters when playing Hangman – is that what she meant by an ‘age-old-strategy’?

In that case...

I took a deep breath. Maybe this was worth the risk. ‘I think we should try doing the opposite,’ I stated. ‘I think we should choose an uncommon letter.’ Realising I’d slipped between languages yet again, I tried to remember the words in Japanese. ‘逆が試みよう.’ Let’s try the opposite. ‘レアの文字.’ An uncommon letter.

The Queen could have purposely avoided using popular ones to throw us off. But if I was wrong, was it worth losing a turn? The bodiless head dangled from its noose on the other screen.

Only six chances left.

‘It’s worth a shot,’ said An.

Pigtails peered at us from the end of the platform. ‘Are you sure? We don’t have that many chances of guessing.’

I understood her hesitation. It felt like we were gambling with our lives, and I was the one calling the shots. And it was even worse for her as she was placing her life in someone else’s hands. ‘I know, わかてる,’ I tried to reassure her. ‘If it doesn’t work, we can try a different approach.’

Headband was twiddling her fingers again, although there was a hardness in her posture. A resolve to win. ‘It won’t be a waste, because we’ll know then that it’s the wrong strategy. I trust you two.’

It felt good to know they had my back, even if my previous attempt at guessing hadn’t worked. Maybe things would take a turn for the better? I exhaled slowly, trying to assemble the most unlikely letters. Q was definitely a contender. Z was again, too obvious, but X was hardly ever used because there were fewer words you could make with it. It was probably the most unlikely letter to appear in a game of Hangman.

Forty-three minutes ticked down to forty-two.

‘X.’

We waited with bated breath. Headband played with her fingers. Pigtails chewed on her lip. An clutched her sunglasses in both hands, her eyes locked on the message before us.

Please... please.

‘Relying on an age-old strategy doesn’t necessarily work.’

A black line appeared beneath the hangman’s head, his new body dangling from the noose.  

[gxccistyless]

Fine Line: The Divorce Series - Part three.

Here is the last part of fine line - the divorce series.  You can read part one here and part two here

I would LOVE to write some one shots based on Harry and Eliza. Feel free to send in requests!! 

That night after he left Eliza’s  Harry went home and sits in his shower for 45 minutes, he thought about going to the pub and then he thought about going to the liquor store to get a bottle of bourbon to drink it in its entirety all in an attempt to try and forget about the fact that he had just kissed Eliza. Harry decides against it, he calls his sponsor instead, his sponsor came to lend an ear and help him get through the night, without liquor. He and his sponsor had become close, he could trust his sponsor to be there for him without feeling the need to worry about his personal struggles with alcohol being leaked to the press.

Two weeks later he found himself at a social gathering at his sponsors house, a family garden party of sorts, alcohol free of course, and that’s where he first met  Olivia Dane. He and Olivia seemed to have an instant connection, no awkward spots in their conversations, no awkward silences where he felt the need to fill time with rambling. Conversation flowed freely. He left that night not having a single drop of alcohol, and with her number in his phone. One week later they were out to dinner ams six weeks after that had her on his arm down the red carpet. 

Eliza and Harry never discussed the kiss. For him it was something he was able to freely move passed, for her it was so much more. The kiss lingered on her mind for weeks and weeks she had so many unanswered questions, questions she knew she might never have answers to. The two had reverted back to old ways, going through third parties to organise Harry spending time with Koa and Lennon. Eliza didn’t love the idea of not having any contact with Harry, especially because they had just started going to therapy and she was really hoping that this would be the turning point in their co-parenting attempt. She was happy that their children had their father back though, every child deserves happy and healthy parents was her fundamental belief. That’s truly all she has ever wanted for Harry, for him to be happy and healthy. With Harry out of the picture for her, she spent more time getting closer to her now partner Andrew. She never spoke a word of the kiss. 

harrystyles . MINE .  LIked by jefezoff, oliviadane and 12,573,399 others.  The post took Eliza by surprise. She saw it on a Sunday morning as she was lazing in bed. She wanted to be happy for him, she wanted him to love and to be loved, but she still wanted him to love her. It was selfish of her, and she was aware of this. Selfish because she has and still was seeing someone else, so why shouldn’t he be able to do the same. But that kiss still lingered in the back of her mind.

She would come to find out some hours later that at some point during the day Harry had unfollowed her on all social media platforms. This hurt her more than it should have, Andrew copping the brunt of her anger, leading them to a huge argument where he had accused her of still being in love with Harry. I can’t be in this relationship with you Eliza, this isn’t healthy. You still love him and that’s okay, but let’s be honest here you can’t love him and still have me. He was right. They ended things that night.  Harry was thinking about introducing Olivia to his kids. It had been on his mind for a while, probably from the second week he had known her. Him co-parenting with Eliza made it harder for him to see Olivia on weekends. He had just gotten into such a good schedule with having the kids again he didn’t want to cancel visits, but he also didn’t want to lay in bed alone at night when they were asleep. Olivia didn’t fancy children very much, her opinion of children didn’t change just because they were linked to the man she was sleeping with. Harry waited three months before he organised a brunch date where she would meet the children. 

Anne had gone to Elizas to pick up the children just as she had been all this time. Koa had fallen ill and Eliza had almost canceled their visit but she had caught wind that the kids would be meeting Olivia and decided against canceling, but packing everything from his prescription medication to his favourite lovey just to be safe, writing out a note giving perfectly clear descriptions about the contents of the bag and their uses.  Olivia rolled her eyes and complained about said bag and note she seems so dramatic over a damn cold were her exact words. Harry didn’t say anything in return letting her comment slide. It was moments like this that he would come to later regret, letting things slide was in his opinion the way people got into bad behaviours, but he loved her and didn’t want to royally fuck this day up over a comment before it had even really started.  He seemed to think that the brunch went well, Olivia on the other hand was less than enthused. Koa had spilt his yoghurt, Lennon her orange juice, children were crying and there was snot everywhere. Despite her distaste for the children of the man she loved, she smiled through it. But really all she could think about was ways to get Harry to herself next weekend, child (and snot) free. She somehow managed it and the following weekend, an hour before Harry was scheduled to have the kids, he canceled. Something about a surprise weekend in Paris that had been sprung on him at the last minute was the reasoning Eliza had gotten off of Anne. 

oliviadane you had me at bonjour ❤️ Liked by harrystyles, jefezoff and 5,452 others.

Harry’s visits with the children had become few and far between by late September. Fallon’s anniversary was fast approaching and Eliza was not coping. Anne, who had stayed in contact with her and loved her like a second daughter picked up on it. Eliza was out of sorts, and rightfully so. She had a lot on her plate between the twins and mentally trying to process the upcoming date. Harry on the other hand was off in a different country every week. Brushing off the responsibilities of parenthood had yet again come so easy to him, Eliza wasn’t surprised at this point. Old habits die hard. Anne had let her concerns about Eliza known to Gemma who went to visit to see for herself. Eliza was a mess, Anne had not been lying. Gemma gave Harry and absolute ear bashing on the phone, told him how much of a disappointment he was to her and their mother, how his kids would resent him some day, how he should be ashamed of himself. Gemmas words must have hit a nerve, or at least talked some sense into him. The following week Harry had done a complete 180 again and the visits with the children, much to Olivia’s dismay, were back on schedule. 

It started with small incidents at first. Koa coming home crying, Lennon expressing her disinterest in going to her fathers house for weekend visits. The weekend before Fallon’s anniversary was the last straw. Koa was screaming and crying as Anne’s car pulled away from Eliza’s house. Eliza could hear his blood curdling shrieks from down the road as she stood frozen in her driveway watching her babies drive away. She hated sending them to him when they were in such a state but she couldn’t figure out what the sudden change had been, they had always loved spending time with their dad until suddenly the didn’t. 

Harry came home from the studio at around lunchtime. His mum had brought the kids some hours earlier and Olivia had been with them for the few hours that they had been there. Harry did not expect to come home to two screaming, crying, hyperventilating children. How long have they been crying? Olivia rolled her eyes and told him they hadn’t shut up since they had gotten there, adding in that they had given her a splitting headache and she was very happy he was home because now they were his problem. Harry knew in that moment that he would have to break up with her. Her small comments about his children and the mother of his children needed to stop, he thought that once she got used to the idea of having the kids around and spending more time with them to get to know them a little better that the comments would stop, but they didn’t. He couldn’t change her, her hatred for children was so deep seeded there was no flipping this situation. He thought that perhaps they could spend one last night together and that he would break it off in the morning once the children had left, but then he noticed the bruises on the children’s arms. When he asked Lennon what had happened she simply pointed to Olivia and that was enough to send him into a fit. Olivia had her bags packed and was out of the house by nightfall. 

Elizas doorbell rang at approximately 7.45pm. She found Harry on her doorstep childless. She panicked thinking something had happened to the twins at first and he must have seen it in her face because he just about jumped at the chance to tell her that his mother was watching them. This had been the first time since the kiss that the two had seen each other.  She pulls the door open more than it had been and lets him stroll through. She makes him a coffee whilst she makes herself a tea and then he tells her everything. She wants to press charges, to hunt this lady down and give her a bruising. Harry tells her that the children need her to be with them at home and not in a jail cell, she decides for once that Harry may have the better judgement here and settles down with Harry promising to never bring her, or any other woman, around their kids every again.  The following weekend, the family of four had an afternoon picnic at Fallon’s grave. It was nothing special, Eliza and Harry both cried the whole time, holding each other extra tight. It had been a rough year for the both of them, they had come so far yet here they found themselves back where they belonged the most... in each other’s arms, surrounded by all their children. With Olivia gone, Koa and Lennon relaxed and seemed to be once again enjoying their time with Harry. Truth be told, she had been enjoying time with Harry too. He became a regular for breakfasts at Eliza’s, and then when the kids were at kindy he became a regular for lunch, and then dinner and then a regular in her bed. This has been over the course of a few months, Eliza made boundaries very early on and part of her stipulations were that they needed to have weekly therapy and not put too much pressure on themselves. In true Harry and Eliza style, the two didn’t take things too slow.

Harry and Eliza remarried in a causal courthouse ceremony in late January, his mum and Gemma were their witnesses. They went to a swanky restaurant to celebrate with the most expensive Sunday roast dinner Harry has ever had in his life. Harry surprised the public with the news, they had somehow managed to keep the rekindling of their relationship under wraps and the media and fans lost their minds in unison. The pair were a hot topic for days.

harrystyles Eliza Ray Styles, I am so lucky that you agreed to marry me twice in one lifetime. I don’t deserve you, but I will love you until the day I die. Love you, wife.  Liked by elizastyles, annetwist and 32,763,278 others.  A few weeks later, it was their turn to be surprised with news that they were once again expecting. Both Harry and Eliza were secretly relieved to only see one baby on the screen at the first appointment. Eliza decided to keep this pregnancy to herself, Harry had no tours and no press junkets and no radio interviews and the pair were both able to fully enjoy the pregnancy. Eliza went into labour in the early out of October 3rd, what would have been Fallon’s 6th birthday, and gave birth and home in the water just six hours later. They once again found themselves trending for days after the announcement of the birth of their son. 

elizastyles for the last nine months, we have been holding the news of this little blessing very close to our hearts. One month ago, Jairus Cohen Styles arrived three weeks early, happy and healthy, and shares a birthday with his Angel sister Fallon Noel. Our family is complete. We are both tired and in love ❤️ Liked by harrystyles, jefezoff and 7,625,618 others.