#a little disappointed that only one person voted

[yautja-lover]

Sneak Peek of Survivors

"Uhh, excuse me.. Mr. Sexy Beast, hello?"you called out, softly while gently poking the tied-up reptile-like humanoid causing the Crucified Predator to wake up with a startled roar. "Easy there, big guy. I'm not here to hurt ya." you said calmly, as he stares at you "Perhaps we make some sort of arrangement?" you questioned earning a head tilt from him. "I'm sure you want down and get back at the others for what they did, yes?.." you questioned earning a growl from him, taking it as a yes.. so you continued on ".. and I want off of this, whatever this is." you said hoping that he gets what your saying then, added  "The enemy of my enemy, is my friend."

You looked around the campsite to see what you could use to cut him loose from the totem pole until, you spot a bone axe 'that could work' you thought to yourself as you walked over to pick it up.. or at least, try to pick it up while falling backwards from lifting it up, earning a scolded grunt from the Crucified Predator. "I am being careful!..." you exclaimed with a huff of frustration, as if you could understand what he's saying and he just chuffed at you in response ".. it's not as easy, as it looks." you responded back, as you tried again sounding like an old married couple. "Alright... now, I've got it!" you exclaimed while lifting the bone axe up and stumbling a bit, as he gives you the look of uncertainty.

[lettersofgold]

4 with Jude Bellingham, please!

-> legacy | jude bellingham

visuals

jude thought playing in front of thousands was nerve-wracking, but somehow, this award presentation was a bit worse. it was all amplified by the cameras being close and photographers yelling at him from all angles. he had accepted his golden boy and absolute golden boy award and taken a few photos before returning to his seat with his parents. the commotion of the evening was winding down, and he was anxiously awaiting the meal that would come at the post-ceremony dinner - he had talked so much and shaken so many hands it was becoming a blur all after traveling from spain in the middle of the week. the little boys in the back doing his celebration was cemented in his heart unlike anything else. it kept his spirits high in his sleepy state. his mom mentioned there were two more awards and the show would finally be over. the announcement came through the air as you walked onto the stage with a heart-stopping smile and a card in hand.

“oh she’s beautiful.” denise commented softly.

“wow, i’m so thankful for the opportunity to be here with the greatest this sport has seen. it’s an honor to present this award on behalf of my uncle’s legacy,” you began. jude went from half awake to wide awake, looking at you on stage in your gorgeous blue gown. “this legacy award highlights the people in football who have unbelievably impacted the world.” you scanned the audience with shimmering eyes before continuing. “this year, the board of directors could not find a better person to hold this award,” you opened the envelope and laughed lightly, “the one and only, our golden boy jude bellingham.”

something about your sugary sweet voice saying “our golden boy” made jude’s cheeks warm and his body hotter. he was so nervous to stand next to you that he barely looked up from the floor as he walked up the stage. you took the trophy from the stand and offered it to him. it was much heavier than you anticipated, and your hand bobbled, but jude quickly grabbed your hands in his to hold it steady. you laughed nervously and started apologizing profusely, which he immediately rushed to let you know he had it secure in his hands. his hands didn’t leave yours, and you made no effort to pull away as the two shared nervous laughter while fumbling over your words. the laughing of the crowd brought jude back down to earth, and took the trophy delicately before turning to the microphone to give a short speech. you cheeks were warm with embarrassment and you stepped aside to let jude shine once more tonight.

“uh, hi, it’s me again.” jude chuckled. he heard you laugh beside him, and he tried to keep his composure. “thank you,” he turned to look at you, and you nodded gingerly, “and thank you to the board who voted for me. again, i couldn’t do this without the support and my family - i’m honored to be able to keep your uncles legacy alive.” the two of you walked backstage, and you were swept away by a show assistant who mentioned “media” and “photo obligations.” jude felt a bit disappointed that he couldn’t stop to talk to you, but as if you could hear his thoughts, you turned around and yelled softly, “see you at the dinner, yeah?”

photos and photos and more photos. jude was thankful it was over - he would have to say no to the next person asking for a picture. he could see your blue gown floating around the luxurious ballroom, from person to person. you hadn’t stopped moving yet. his mom told him you were pretty famous in your own right: you just secured a role as a disney princess. his mind wandered to how he could start a conversation with you, but each idea fell short. his dad nudged him with a mischievous smile. “just go up to her.” he teased. “it’s a bit weird, d’know what i mean?” jude explained. “there’s nothing weird about it. say thank you, ask about her uncle, hell ask for her name, just ask something.” jude frowned at his dad's comments as if it were oh-so-easy to walk up to a girl as radiant as you.

10 minutes passed. then 20 minutes. it was nearly 45 minutes when you finally circled back to jude. he was in a deep conversation that it slipped his mind that he wanted to speak with you - people had bombarded him with compliments and discussions. “jude!” you whispered a few conversations over with a wave of your hand. you pointed towards your phone and the photographers. more photos, no. but a moment with you, yes. he excused himself from the conversation, which his mom expertly took over, and his dad winked.

“they want a few more photos,” you said. you could’ve asked jude to follow you out the door, and he probably would have - he was enamored with you. jude took the trophy from an assistant who extended it out to him. he held it with both hands but was promptly scolded by a photographer - “no, both of you hold it.” jude shuffled closer to you, and you placed your hand on the other side of the award. “can you get closer, no no, even closer please.” the photographer barked again. you laughed softly and commented, “geez,” through your smile. jude snaked his arm around your waist, and your hip found his side, and in return, you wrapped your arm around him, your head tilted inwards. you were so close jude couldn’t hide his smile - it was broad and goofy. the flash of lights was arresting and almost blinding. no matter how many times he stood in front of photographers, it never got easier. as quickly as you were there, you were pulling away. the assistant whisked the award out of his hand, and you had turned away once more before he mustered up the courage to say anything.

jude was on his way to leave when you called out to him. “wait. come here, it’ll be quick.” you grabbed the award and your phone - forcing the trophy into his hands quickly. “it’s my bereal.” jude threw up a peace sign as you snapped a photo, then you turned into him, your head resting on his chest as you snapped a selfie from outstretch arms. it was the most unserious photo he had taken all night - it was his favorite.

“that’s the one for sure.” you gushed as you showed him the photo. “absolutely. it’s all you.” jude said. “oh no that’s all you, golden boy.” you two talked for a moment. mainly you, but jude was more than happy to listen. you said your goodbyes soon after, and jude found his parents.

“wasn’t that bad was it?” his dad teased.

as he waited for his flight to take off, jude wondered if he should slide into your dms but opted against it. he opened twitter and scrolled through his feed before tapping on his notifications. the same tweet was retweeted and it made him curious.

it was a photo of the two of you holding hands on stage in the middle of laughing, then another of you leaning into each other at the dinner, and finally, you taking a photo of him at the ceremony. people were eating it up, commenting left and right about how cute you were.

user1 he’s winning on and off the pitch.

user2 i see what he’s doing he’s cooking

user3 oh he’s in love with her he’s just like me fr

user4 jude if you see this just know i’ll fight you over her.

user5 gonna tell my kids this is posh and becks

jude opened instagram to see if the chaos was just as large. he went straight to your page and hit follow when he got a notification that you followed him back. it made his heart skip a beat.

yn.jpg tagged you in a post

captioned: what a night celebrating my uncle, the love never stops. my heart is happy (even though i nearly dropped the trophy!!) here’s to the legacy ❣️

jude laughed inwardly as he scrolled through photos of you on the red carpet, one of you on stage, the next of you two holding hands and laughing, and finally the bereal the two of you had taken. jude typed and untyped a comment before he finally settled on one and pushed send. he knew it would be everywhere but he wanted to know if you were as interested in him as he was in you.

judebellingham it’s not every night i get to meet a princess and get to honor the legacy of your uncle xx

-> yn.jpg responded not every night i get to meet a golden boy. seems like dreams are coming true.

[flowerandblood]

The Gate of Salvation [1/3]

[ young pope • Aemond x catholic • female ]

[ warnings: sexual tension, angst, anxiety, manipulation, doubts related to faith, chauvinism ]

[ description: During the conclave, a new pope is elected, but to everyone's surprise, he does not intend to show himself to the crowds waiting for him. His ideas terrify the cardinals, and one of them convinces his niece, who is studying marketing, to talk to the new head of the Catholic Church in his presence. Main theme: sexual tension & holy touch. ]

A mini-series created as a thank you and celebration of my 2'500 followers. I initially plan that it will have about 3 chapters.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

The Song of Songs (Oneshot) Death and Ressurection (Oneshot)

Aemond as a Pope Edit Series Characters Moodboard Aemond NSFW Alphabet

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

What happened after the conclave took everyone by surprise and caused complete chaos in the Catholic Church; she was one of the people who watched the live coverage from St Peter's Square.

She prayed in spirit that her uncle and her mother's brother, Cardinal Reene, would not become Pope.

Admittedly, it was thanks to him that she was living in Rome, and without his financial support she would not have been able to study, however, her uncle was a person who did nothing selflessly.

He recalculated to himself that if his niece wanted to study marketing at University then he would help her, reminding her at times that he would count on her help in the future, to create a good, sympathetic image of him.

She had the feeling that listening to him she was even losing her faith, which, despite her many internal disputes and doubts, was strong in her. She returned to the bosom of the church of her own free will when she was in high school after years of not attending Mass; she discovered that she felt attached to this tradition, as well as to God himself, whose presence she subconsciously felt all around her.

She knew that her uncle would certainly try to bribe other cardinals and she guessed what his pontificate would be like, so she begged God in her prayers not to allow such a man to become head of the church in his name, and heavens, as always, heard her prayers.

When she saw the white smoke on the screen she let out a loud breath, closing the textbook she had just been reading – she heard shouts and applause of joy coming from the television; the bells rang out, the solemn moment when the new pope comes out onto the balcony to greet his faithful was about to begin.

This went on for an astonishingly long time and she wondered if something had happened or if the votes had been miscounted, however, she heard the cheers of the crowd again as the doors opened. What stepped out was not a procession, but an ordinary priest in a black cassock; she recognised in him the secretary of the late Pope, who was certainly not a cardinal.

He seemed tense and frightened; he approached the microphone and said only two sentences.

"We have a Pope. The Holy Father, who has taken the name Pius XIII, asks you all to pray for him." He said in a trembling, uncertain voice, all pale, and then disappeared back behind the door – voices of disbelief and disappointment spread throughout the square, the gathered people, like her, were shocked.

However, all the internet portals published the name of the cardinal who had been elected; it turned out that the new pope was Cardinal Targaryen, a very little-known, withdrawn and shockingly young priest.

He was only two years older than her.

Journalists despaired that there were no official or unofficial photos of him, no statements from him, as if he had lived for years locked away in some monastery and never stepped into the light of day.

The world was confused and anxious – the young pope had not stepped out onto the balcony of St Peter's Basilica even once despite the crowds gathered in the square below chanting his name day and night.

She wondered if, in this way, he wanted to focus the world's attention even more on himself by standing in the absolute centre of it, and thought that if so, it was not a good beginning to his pontificate.

Two days later, her uncle paid her an unannounced visit at the flat he was renting to her, dressed so that no one would recognise him, just like the other cardinals still hounded by journalists and paparazzi.

"I need your help. The matter is very delicate." He said quickly, handing her his coat, which she hung on one of the hangers, looking at him over her shoulder in surprise.

"Me?" She asked with her eyes wide open, wondering what was going on there that required the help of someone from outside the Vatican.

"Pius XIII is a cripple. He lost his left eye as a child. He insists that if he is to show himself to a crowd, it should only be with his artificial eye, but not an ordinary one, one that resembles the real one, but a completely white one. He thinks this suits his attire and position better, but we think it will create additional confusion about him. Additionally, he wants to keep the Pope's public appearances to a complete minimum. He has fired all the Vatican marketing people with years of experience. This is some madness. Can I have a coffee?" He finally asked after his verbosity, sitting down in a chair at the living room table, placing his black wide-brimmed hat on the tabletop, sighing heavily.

She nodded, snapped out of her reverie and the shock of his words, pulling a mug and black coffee from her cupboard. Her uncle drank coffee made from three heaped teaspoons without milk, and although she didn't know how he could swallow something so disgusting and not have a heart attack in the process, she made it the way he liked it.

She swallowed loudly, pouring water into the kettle, putting it on the burner and turning the fire on under it, analysing everything he had told her.

"It sounds like he has a very low and a very high opinion of himself at the same time. How could I help here, uncle? I'm just a student." She said in dismay, shrugging her shoulders; her uncle nodded his head as if convinced that this would be her answer.

"You are young, you have a fresh outlook. He doesn't want to listen to us old people, he thinks we're out of step with the world and what it needs, whatever that means." He said with a sneer, looking out of the window, spreading himself comfortably in his chair with a creak of wood.

"I'd like you to try to talk to him, to understand what he means, what his vision is. Guide him to the idea that young people too want peace and predictability, not perpetual rebellion. I told him I could introduce you, that you are very talented and he agreed." He said finally and scratched the back of his neck – she heard the kettle whistle and turned off the fire under it, feeling that she had simply run out of words.

"− what? − I − oh God, uncle, I don't know − what if I make things worse and you lose in his eyes because of me? −" She muttered, feeling adrenaline start to bubble throughout her body; she poured hot water over the coffee in her mug, grabbed it and set it in front of him, then started walking back and forth across the room, panicking in some kind of way.

"This would just be a consultation − two young people want to change the image of the church to, let's say, a more welcoming one − this could be your big chance." He said, lifting the mug to his lips, taking a sip from it and murmuring contentedly, apparently finding that his coffee was exactly the way he liked it.

He persuaded her for so long that she finally agreed, but she regretted it as soon as he walked out.

She was inexperienced in discussions with this world, with such people, and was afraid she would make a mistake, do something against protocol and embarrass herself.

Her uncle sent her a message on the day of the meeting saying that she must dress modestly, preferably in white or black, her dress must end at least past her knees, her toes must not stick out of her shoes, her shoulders must be covered. Sharp, defiant make-up was not acceptable.

She was to address the Pope as Holy Father or Your Holiness, keep the proper distance, not sit with her legs crossed, not put her elbows on the armrests, not lean or crouch in front of him, approach him only if he wanted her to kiss his ring.

The amount of information she received overwhelmed her; she took a quick look in her wardrobe and found that her simple black dress with white embroidered collar and cuffs was the perfect length – it had no cleavage, it looked elegant, innocent and girly at the same time.

She decided to wear flesh-coloured tights with it and sleek black shoes, which she had previously polished. She styled her long dark hair in a braid around her head, keeping it in place with pins, short, unruly strands on the sides of her face.

She used only mattifying powder and mascara as her make-up, deciding that this was enough, around her neck a necklace with a small gold cross that she had been given once by her grandfather.

At the appointed hour, a black car pulled up in front of her townhouse; she got into the back seat and greeted the driver, who, however, did not answer her, driving off without a word.

After several minutes they were already in the Vatican itself; she looked through the car window at the crowds of people spilling out of St Peter's Square, saw a group of men and women holding cardboard sheets in their hands with the handwritten words:

Our Pope does not love us.

She lowered her gaze, silently contemplating all that was happening, and shuddered as they stopped in front of the gate – a Swiss Guard officer dressed in colourful historical attire with red, yellow and navy blue stripes stopped their car.

Her driver showed him his ID and the man nodded – the gate opened and they drove inside into a small courtyard that she saw for the first time in her life.

She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the figure of her uncle waiting for her in his full, opulent cardinal's robe, a cross on his chest of pure gold, adorned with rubies and diamonds.

He greeted her with a broad smile and joy, with a gesture of his hand inviting her inside – they ascended the baroque staircase to the corridor, the view of the interior of the entire complex took her breath away.

She was surrounded on all sides by paintings and sculptures by the great Italian masters of the Renaissance, Baroque and Classicism; she felt a solemn mood, though she did not know why, as if she had in fact entered the truest home of God himself on earth.

The guards as well as other men passing her looked at her intently – she thought with horror and shame that women, with the exception of nuns, were a rare visitor to this sanctuary and aroused curiosity mixed with distrust.

Here, what Eve did in paradise according to the Bible, because of whom sin possessed man, was never forgotten.

They climbed the stairs to the upper floor and then stood in front of a large white door, high up to the ceiling, with two men in the same colourful garments standing in front of them. Her uncle sighed heavily, as if stressed himself, and looked at her comfortingly.

"I'll do the talking, you keep quiet for now." He said lightly, surprising her completely – she had no time to reply as he nodded and one of the guards opened the door for him.

Her uncle moved ahead, so she moved behind him, entering a spacious, bright room with six windows overlooking St Peter's Square – to their right stood bookcases filled to the brim with books, and to their left a huge wooden desk.

Only after a moment did she notice someone standing by one of the windows; his back turned to them, looking out at the crowds knowing they couldn't see him, a white cassock on his body, his short hair looking elegant and carefully styled, pulled back, almost white, glistening in the sunlight.

"Holy Father. As promised, I bring before you my niece, who I hope will allow us to come to an agreement." He said in a light, cheerful tone, as if addressing a friend, but they were answered by an uncomfortable silence.

She swallowed loudly when he finally turned to face them, her heart stopped for a moment when she saw how sharply shaped his face was – his cheeks and jaw were clearly outlined as if someone had carved them with a chisel, his mouth full, a pale scar running across the left side of his forehead to his cheek, his artificial eye completely white.

She felt that she was looking at him with her lips slightly parted and some sort of concern, so she lowered her gaze, reminding herself that she shouldn't do that.

"Hm." She heard him hum under his breath, as if he was thinking hard about something.

"Leave us alone, Cardinal." He said finally, turning his face towards the window again – she and her uncle looked at each other horrified, for this was not their plan.

She was only going to be an accessory, he was going to be the one doing all the talking.

"Your Holiness, I…"

"Get out."

Her uncle pressed his lips together and grunted, bowed his head and left, not even bestowing a glance on her despite the despair written on her face, leaving her to her fate.

She swallowed loudly as the door closed behind him and intertwined her hands in front of her, not knowing what to do, where to look, a cold sweat on her back.

"Do not be afraid, child. I know your uncle's nature. If I didn't let him bring you here he wouldn't let me alone." He began reluctantly, as if the very fact that he had to talk to her made him very tired; he moved with his hands entwined behind him ahead, walking along the windows, his profile illuminated by the sun.

She lowered her gaze, feeling a wave of shame surge through her, understanding that he knew perfectly well what her uncle wanted.

That it wasn't just about his image, but that he, as a cardinal, wanted his favour and the high position, money and comfort he could give him.

"What do you think of my decision not to show myself in public?" He asked finally; she raised her eyes at him, surprised, horrified that she had to answer. She swallowed loudly and licked her lips, dry of stress, thinking intensely about what she should say.

"Go on. You're supposed to know it, after all, it's an image issue." He growled and looked at her with an anger that sent a shiver through her; she stared at him in disbelief and fear trying to decide what kind of man he was.

She wasn't sure this was how a pope should behave.

"Driving here I saw people holding cardboard sheets saying: Our Pope does not love us. I felt sadness at the thought that many people feel rejected by your decision, Holy Father." She said at last, feeling that involuntarily her voice trembled and broke; she saw him tighten his lips, his nostrils moved nervously in accelerated breathing.

"Is love a perpetual vying for attention, standing in the centre? Is love only the deeds that can be shown, that anyone can see and name?" He asked frustrated, and she felt a squeeze in her throat, her lower lip quivered. She shook her head.

"People are afraid of what they do not know. You don't let them meet you, Holy Father." She whispered, and he snorted, turning back, going the other way, as if thinking over her words.

"So you think I should speak? Go out on the balcony and give them what they want?" He asked dryly. She let the air quietly out of her lungs, feeling her body tense all over – she had the feeling that she had adopted a defensive posture, as if ready for him to hit her.

"No. But I think it is necessary to find a way in which they can see you, Holy Father. To feel that you are in their lives physically as well. They need a guide, not another invisible God." She said finally and fell silent, lowering her gaze, feeling that her last sentence might have been too far-fetched.

She noticed with horror that he stopped hearing what she had said.

"You think I'm doing this out of vanity?" He asked in disbelief. She lifted her gaze to him, for some reason feeling that she was on the verge of crying.

"I don't know, Holy Father. I do not know you, nor do any of your faithful. We are sheeps who do not know where to go and where is their shepherd. Do you think we are too sinful? That we don't deserve to see you?" She asked finally in a trembling voice, his healthy eye fixed on her.

Our Pope does not love us.

She shuddered, feeling the rapid pounding of her heart as he moved towards her with a slow, lazy step, not taking his eyes off her, towering over her. She didn't know what she saw in his gaze, proud and cool; she felt heat in her lower abdomen as the pleasant scent of his masculine perfume filled her nostrils.

She thought he had approached her far too closely.

She froze and swallowed loudly as he lifted his hand; she thought for a moment in horror and disbelief that he would touch her breasts, however, he grasped her golden cross in his hand and turned it between his fingers, looking at it thoughtfully.

"I am not a hypocrite. There is no greater sinner in this world than me. I am vain. I am proud. I am cold. I am eternally, eternally thirsty." He murmured softly and looked into her eyes, her lips slightly parted in disbelief.

She felt panic begin to overtake her body as her insides throbbed wonderfully hard at his ambiguous, unsettling words.

Something about him she found disturbing, even though she was surrounded by whiteness and daylight it seemed to her that the room had gone dark.

She was only able to breathe and look at him, nothing more.

"Do you believe in God?" He asked, still playing with her necklace, however, he did so in such a way that once in a while his fingers rubbed against the material of her dress lying between her breasts, each time a wonderful shiver ran through her spine.

There was something evil, menacing, lewd in the way he asked the question, in the way he acted and the way he looked at her and she knew it, she was horrified by how strongly her body reacted to it.

"Yes." She whispered, as if she was admitting something she was ashamed of, something that was her secret.

He hummed again under his breath, as if accepting her words – his hand let go of her necklace and returned to the other, placed behind his back.

"I'm hiring you. You will be my image specialist. I expect you here tomorrow at 8am. That's all. You may go." He said indifferently, turning away as if nothing had happened; she sighed quietly, terrified, and nodded with a rapidly pounding heart.

"Holy Father." She mumbled, then turned and walked out.

Her uncle ran after her asking her what they were talking about and what had happened – he made the sign of the cross with some kind of relief on his face when she told him in horror that he had hired her.

"What did you say to him about me? I'm only in my second year of university, I don't have the right experience yet." She muttered in a trembling voice; her uncle sighed, correcting his glasses on his nose with his pointing finger.

"He doesn't care about your experience." He said amused, and she looked at him in disbelief.

It suddenly dawned on her what her uncle had been planning all along, and what she had gotten herself into because of her foolishness and naivety.

There is no greater sinner in this world than me.

I am eternally, eternally thirsty.

She felt a squeeze in her throat, tears filling her eyes again as she moved forward, covering her mouth with her hand, distraught, humiliated.

Her uncle didn't want her to be his worker.

Her uncle wanted her to be his lover.

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96 @rwdkarla

[sweetbans29]

Greece - CC

Pairing: Caitlin Clark x Reader

Summary: You go on a holiday to Greece with CC and the girls - Based on THIS request

Warnings: none, just some fluff for ya

Word Count: 2.8k

Sweetbans Masterlist

AN: Hi all! Here is a cute one for you!

It was summer break and you and some of the girls from the team decided it would be super fun to go on a vacation somewhere. You all got together to choose where you wanted to go. Jada had the great idea to do that trend of everyone putting a place into a hat and each person would draw at random until there was only one left.

You and Cait had talked endlessly about where you two thought would be fun. Caitlin knew where she wanted to go and was incredibly hopeful about her choice. Meanwhile, you were naming off every place under the sun.

When you both got to Jada's apartment to figure out where you all were headed, Caitlin couldn't contain her excitement. There was a group of 8 of you going which meant that eight locations were going into a hat to be chosen from.

You all sat around her living room and took turns writing down where you wanted to go. You looked over at your girl and saw her writing 'Greece' on her piece of paper. You smile, thinking about all the times she has talked about vacationing off the coast of Santorini.

Caitlin had wanted to go to Greece ever since she was a little girl. There was something about it that just seemed so enticing to her. Ever since you started talking to Caitlin you heard her talking about wanting to go to Greece. Any time you talked about going somewhere together, it always came up in the conversation. It was quite cute.

She put her paper in the bowl on the table. You looked down at your piece of paper and pondered the list of places you were thinking about. Nothing seemed as great as seeing your girl live out the vacation of her dreams. So you secretly write down 'Greece' and place it in the bowl on the table.

After everyone sticks their paper in the bowl, you all take turns pulling out pieces seeing where you will not be going.

As the bowl goes around the room, you hear 'Spain', 'Australia', and 'Japan'. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Caitlin's knee bouncing with anticipation.

'Amsterdam' is read next followed by 'Canada' and 'Thailand'.

It was your turn to pick a place and you already knew how this was going to play out. You pull out a paper and look at it. Caitlin's eyes are intensely staring at you. You give her an apologetic look and show everyone the paper that reads 'Greece' in Caitlin's handwriting.

"Greece," you say as you lean over to kiss Caitlin's temple. Her disappointment doesn't hide well. She tries to compose herself because she is the one who is saying where they are going to be going on vacation.

Little does she know, that her disappointment isn't going to last long. You pass her the bowl knowing that the last piece of paper remaining is yours. And you know you would do anything to bring joy to Caitlin.

You rub her arm as she grabs the remaining piece of paper. You try to hide your smile but are failing. She grabs the piece of paper.

"We are going to..." she begins as she unfolds the paper. A scream escapes your girlfriend and she jumps up on the couch.

"WE ARE GOING TO GREECE!!!" She exclaims as she jumps on the couch like a little girl.

You are so caught up in how Caitlin is reacting that you don't hear that some of the girls are excited and the others say it's not fair that you two can vote the same.

Caitlin jumps into your arms, wrapping her legs around your waist and repeatedly mumbles thank you in your ear. This reaction alone was worth writing down Greece, you can't wait to see what being there with her will be like...

*2 months later*

The time has come and your girl's trip has arrived! Speaking of arrival, your plane just landed in Athens, and are now in a cab on your way to the Airbnb you rented.

Everyone is so excited to be there, especially Cait. It is all she has been able to talk about for the last two months - so much so that you have had to threaten her to get her to stop talking about it. Now that you are actually here, all the work put into planning this trip is paid off.

As the cab pulls up the Airbnb, you all take in how beautiful it is. You all decided to splurge and get a 5-bedroom villa that overlooked the city. It was unanimous when it came to finding a spot - since it was your big trip for the summer, it was worth every penny.

You all run into the villa and being freaking out over how stunning it is. Everyone running and excited about a different thing - Kylie ran to the balcony, Sydney ran to the infinity pool, Jada and Hannah ran to the bedroom with the biggest mirror (those girls and their Tiktok dances), Kate ran to the courtyard that housed a beautiful outdoor patio set, Gabby and Caitlin ran to the living room that was practically a movie theater and you of course ended up in the kitchen.

If there is one thing you love to do, it's cook. Making and serving food is your love language - at least how you express love. When looking at places you were 100% biased to this place because of the kitchen. It housed a beautiful island that had a 4-burner stovetop attached on top of the 6-burner over stove tucked along the wall. Two sinks - one of which was on the island for convenience. A walk-in pantry that was already stashed with all the spices and staples you could ever need. On top of it all, it had one of those foot vacuums where if you dropped anything on the floor, you could push it over to the opening and press a button for it to get sucked up, never to be seen or stepped on again.

As you are falling in love with the kitchen, you feel a pair of familiar arms come and wrap around your torso. Your arms come to rest on top of your girl as you lean back into her. Her head comes to rest on your shoulder and she squeezes you even more.

"I know we just got here but this is the best trip I have ever been on," she says as she turns you to face her. You rest your backside on the island and admire your beautiful girlfriend.

"I am glad you are happy with our choice of summer vacation," you say teasing her.

She pokes at your stomach, which results in a laugh from you.

"Ya, well, I have a pretty amazing girl who would do anything to make me happy," Caitlin says genuinely as she takes hold of your hand. You decide to poke at her some more.

"Well I don't know about anything to make you happy," you say, exaggerating the 'anything'. When she looks down at you, you give her a smile and a peck before grabbing your bags and heading to find the room you will be staying in with Cait.

"I already put my stuff in our room, let me show you where it is," she says as she leads you down a hallway that leads to a whole other wing of the villa. It is like its own separate house within the villa. When you arrive, you notice it is the only room on this side of the Airbnb.

"I chose this room intentionally," Caitlin says. "It is the only room on this side of the villa - completely separate from everyone else." She gives you a suggestive look as she begins to approach you. Right as you wrap your arms around your girlfriend's neck you hear the phone ring.

You both look to see a landline on the bedside table. You pick it up and say 'hello'.

"Hey! You two lovebirds need to come back to the main house - we are going out to explore," Gabby says and the other girls are yelling at you two to hurry up.

"Okay okay we are on our way," you say as you motion for Caitlin to change into lighter clothes. You hang up the phone and begin to change yourself.

Once again, you feel Caitlin's arms wrap around you.

"It's a good thing they won't be near us tonight - because I have some ideas on how I want to say thank you to you and I know you have trouble staying quiet," she says as she kisses your neck.

"Why don't we just stay here and start now," you say as your eyes close and your head leans back into her shoulder.

"As tempting as that sounds, we are burning daylight baby!" She says as she completely removes herself from you, earning a groan.

"Tease," you mumble as you finish changing out of your travel clothes.

The first few days are spent exploring Athens. Going to see different historic sites and museums. The place is beautiful and the food is delicious. Everyone is having the time of their lives, Caitlin especially as you all explore a new city.

The next morning you and a few girls head to a local market. You plan on making dinner that night for everyone. As you are walking around, you buy everything you will need and more. You are overwhelmed with everything they have and have an absolute blast. Jada and Kate are with you and get flowers and other small things that will liven up your stay.

When you get back, you start some of the prep while everyone else is lounging or doing their own thing. Caitlin is sitting on the counter watching you do your thing in the kitchen. Watching you cook is one of her favorite things. She could sit and watch you all day - it’s when you are in your element.

Every now and again you would bounce over to her to give her a little kiss or to squeeze between her legs to be held by her. Being held by your girl makes you melt every time.

Once everything is all done, Cait rounds the girls and everyone meets at the patio table. You come out bringing the last dish. Family dinners are where you feel most at home (the only exception being Cait). Everyone sits and feasts and life is good.

The next few days are for sightseeing. Everyone heads out to different museums and places that hold Greek culture. Some things are done together while others you all break off into small groups, you never leaving Caitlin’s side. It didn’t matter what you were doing, doing it with Caitlin was better than doing any of it without her.

You are all back at the Airbnb enjoying the amenities that are there. Everyone is out by the pool, some in it and some sitting next to it. You are reading a book when you feel a sudden cold reach your legs. You tilt your book to the side to see nothing out of the ordinary - no one is looking at you or acknowledging the fact you made any movement. Going back to reading, you pass it off as a phantom splash until it happens again.

You immediately sit up and look around to find Caitlin in the pool trying to conceal a giggle. A smile forms as you get up from your chair and make your way to sit next to where she is. You sit poolside and dangle your feet in the water.

“Why don’t you come all the way in,” Caitlin says. “We can race!” It was cute how she was playing in the pool like a little kid. Seeing her here in Greece has you believing that this trip is healing a part of her inner child and it makes your heart swell.

“Maybe in a little babe, I’m about to go in to make everyone lunch,” you say reaching over to take some of her wet hair into your hand and combing your fingers through it.

She moves to position herself in between your thighs, leaning her arms on them, and looks up at you with puppy dog eyes. “Please please please,” she begs.

You lean down and kiss her on the top of her head.

“Maybe a little later love,” you tell her. “Actually you should probably get out of the pool and do some packing.” You tell her.

“Pack? Why? We have another 4 days here, I have plenty of time to pack babe,” she says, slightly offended you suggested leaving this wonderful place so soon.

“Not pack to go home, pack to go on a little adventure,” you say with a little smile. She immediately perks up.

“Wait, what?” She says as she tries to get your attention back. You were not leaning back and looking up at the sky. She starts tapping on your thigh and splashing you with water.

“Hey! Don’t splash, I need to make lunch,” you give her a look.

“What do you mean adventure?” She says. She is too cute.

“Well, I thought it would be fun if we broke away from the group for a couple days and headed over to Santorini,” you say with a smile.

“We’re going to Santorini???” She exclaims, jumping up and down in the pool.

“Ya babe, we weren’t going to come to Greece and not go to Santorini,” you say with a laugh.

She gets overly excited and grabs your arms, pulling you into the pool. She wraps herself around you as you instinctively wrap your arms around her. You try to act mad that you literally just told her you didn’t want to get wet because you were going to head in and make food but you can’t keep a straight face when you see how excited she is. There isn’t much you wouldn’t do for this girl.

“Ok now go pack. We leave tonight and you need to be ready,” you say and you pull yourself out of the pool and grab a towel.

You make everyone lunch and make sure Caitlin packs. Before you know it, the two of you are on a plane heading to the beautiful island of Santorini. The second you knew you were all going to Greece, you started booking this little side quest to Santorini. It was fun to be able to get some of the girls' help as you wanted to keep it secret from Cait until you were there. They helped get some details out of her about things she would want to see and do without it coming straight from you.

The two of you have a small little Airbnb that is right in the middle of the classic white hillside. As you are settling in, you tell Caitlin what your next few days look like. The hikes you have planned and the markets she has mentioned to Gabby. Places to eat and you even have a nice little boat ride planned. She is over the moon with all you have managed to plan without her knowing.

The two of you have the time of your lives exploring Santorini. This was literally her dream - to be here. And being here with you was the cherry on top. She has no idea how she could ever thank you for all of this.

It’s your last night in Santorini before you head back to be with the group. You have planned a nice little candlelight dinner overlooking the coast. As the two of you sit there and just take in each other’s presence and the scene around you, you take hold of her hand.

“I hope this has been everything you dreamed it to be,” you say to her as you grab your glass of wine. She gives your hand a squeeze and just looks at you.

“What?” You say beginning to squirm under her eyes.

“You are the most beautiful human being I know,” she begins. “Not just physically, but your heart is so big and full of love for others and the world. I truly cannot believe you have chosen me to love. You are the best thing that has happened to me and I am the luckiest girl in the world to call you mine.” As she finishes, there is a little twinkle in her eye from the moon hitting the tears that have begun to form.

You don’t say anything. Nothing you say could even begin to describe your love for the girl sitting in front of you. So instead you stand, her hand still in hers. You guide her to a little spot near the edge of the patio where you were having dinner and pull her close to you. Your hand free hand coming to her waist, hers coming to your shoulder. You begin to slowly dance in the moonlight, soaking up this moment.

A moment you would never dream of forgetting.

AN: This was a fun one to write! I hope you all enjoyed it. Please let me know what you think! And as always, thank you for your love and support 🤍

[likedovesinthewindd]

A thread of Hope

jonathan ohnn/the spot x reader

๑ summary: amidst all the destruction and dejection you've found yourself in the last few months, you still missed your husband, and you'd do anything to have him back again.

๑ warning/content: mention of crime, being homeless, allusion to depression, kinda hurt/comfort, use of pet names (lmao sorry) this is actually kida corny lmfaoo I'm sorry 😭

๑ word count: ± 2500

๑ a/n: thank you to everyone who commented and motivated me to finish this, and to everyone who voted on the poll 🩷

๑ gif not mine, all credit to original creator.

Every day seemed to stretch on into forever, blending into the next to create one long, unbearable loop. Having to wake up every morning with the hope that the last few months had only been one bad dream. That you'd turn your body around in bed and find your husband sleeping peacefully next to you, and then you'd close your eyes again and drift back to sleep.

And every morning when you'd turn around to find his side of the bed cold and empty, you'd face the heartbreaking realization that your husband was gone, presumed dead.

You've never known hurt like this; being told that your husband was dead, most likely caught under the thousands of pounds of rubble from what had been Alchemax's buildings. You've cried, you've been angry, you've even been at the verge of a complete breakdown, but you refused to mourn. A person only mourned the dead, and you refused to believe that your husband was dead.

But it has been months, and the already thin thread of hope you had been holding onto was waning thinner with every passing day. Every long, exhausting day of fruitless efforts and disappointment. Your friends and family had already tried convincing you—in the nicest way they could put it—to stop searching for him, to accept it and let him "rest". But you wouldn't let him rest, and neither would you rest. You were aware that at some point that thread of hope would certainly break, but until then you'd try and search until you found something.

˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚𖡼˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚

The nights truly were the worst part of it all. Everything seemed to get so quiet now that Jonathan wasn't around, and it felt like the silence was slowly driving you towards an inevitable insanity. You had grown so used to returning from work every day, getting food ready as the scratchy sounds of the old radio filled the small apartment kitchen.

And every evening you'd be greeted by your husband's voice announcing his arrival and loudly settling in, throwing his coat, briefcase and loose files on the whichever surface he could find. He would clean your bedroom that the both of you had neglected that morning while you finished cooking (because neither of you trusted him near a pot nor pan).

After a while he'd join you in the kitchen, helping in areas where he couldn't burn anything, quietly humming along to whatever song would be playing from the radio. And when dinner was done, you'd sit at your small couch, knees touching and each with a couch pillow in your lap acting as a folding tray.

You'd listen to him jabber passionately about what he had been working on recently and how it worked, talking in terms you'd never even dream of ever understanding. You'd listen to it every day though, gladly.

But now, every day you'd come home from work to a dark and empty house, and you'd saunter around like a ghost, the usual singing and humming replaced by your sighs and heavy footsteps as you make your way to bed, ready to call it a night.

Tonight the silence was suffocating you; you needed to get out of the apartment before the walls swallowed you up whole. So you found whatever jacket was laying around and made your way to the roof of the building. It was your favorite place to go to when you needed to think, or to get away from the commotion of everything and just find your bearings once again. Ironically, tonight you needed to get away from the lack of commotion.

It was somewhat your little secret spot, so you were surprised when you found someone else sitting by the ledge of the building, their back to you as they stared down at the busy building beneath. Your first thought had been to warn the person about sitting so close to the ledge, but you decided to approach them differently. Besides, they might have been here for the exact same reason you were.

"Excuse me," you said softly, trying to not startle them. It hadn't worked apparently, and they still flinched upon hearing your voice, the scratchy material of their jacket faintly rustling with the movement. He didnt turn around though, and you grew a bit concerned as to what exactly the stranger was doing here.

"You don't have to go or anything, but," you started, "maybe you shouldn't sit there? You could easily misjudge your step or something, then you could hurt yourself." Still, the guy didnt answer, and just when you wanted to speak up again, maybe turn back inside to call for help, he suddenly spoke up.

"Im sorry, I'll be out of you hair I just—" by now he was making his way down the ledge, assumebly getting ready to leave completely. "I didnt mean you have to lea—"

"No, Im going. Im just in the way," the man spoke, tugging at the hat he wore and keeping his head down as he passed you, slightly bumping into you to get to the roof hatch behind you. It was also when you noticed the odd pair of pant he was wearing. Tghts? A leotard?

It wasn't till the man was already at the roof hatch, ready to make his way down the stairs, when it hit you. The voice, you'd be able to recognize that voice in your sleep—perhaps courtesy of how often he's plagued your dreams in recent months, or maybe simply because he was your husband and you've grown so accustomed to everything him.

"Hey wait a minute!" you shouted, hating the way your voice was already sounding weak and shak. You were mentally kicking yourslf at how you were getting your hopes up.

The man froze once again, refusing to turn around and hunching over like someone trying to make himself seem smaller, trying to not be seen. You took a few cautious steps closer to him, until you were facing his back, close enough to see the panted breaths he was taking, chest rising and falling rhythmically yet frantically.

"Jonathan?" you tried, and God, you couldn't stand how desperate you sounded, even to your own ears. You were grasping at straws at this point, even you could see that. This could've been the first sign of your impending insanity, but it was too late to turn back now. "Jonathan," you tried again, voice a bit more confident this time around. The man said nothing, did nothing, and just when you were getting ready to apologize for making him uncomfortable, he turned around in one swift movement. The quick motion made you gasp, the man suddenly so close to you that you had the chance to examine his features, only there was nothing there.

He was lacking all and any facial features, except for the big black splotch moving around on his face frantically. And for some reason you could've sworn you could still see the emotion etched onto his face, even without any indication thereof. You could so clearly see the distraught, the sadness that seemed to ooze from him.

"Jonathan?" you tried one final time, your eyes focused on his featureless face, the black splotch now moving around at an almost concerning pace. "What happened?"

Then you saw it again. You saw the emotion in his face, so clearly displayed that it almost felt like he didn't even need a face for you to see it. "How did you know it was me?" he whispered, voice so small you would've missed it if a strong enough wind blew by. The words seemed to jackhammer at your already torn and hurt heart, and you already felt the tears pooling in your eyes, making them feel as heavy as the lump that sat in your throat. "Only you would wear a hat that ugly," you said with a wobbly voice, trying desperately to not cry even though the tears had already fallen the moment the words left your mouth.

For a second, the spot on his face morphed into what you believed was a substitute for a smile, and the sight made a similar streatch onto your face. You reached out a shaky hand to touch his face, and when you were sure he wouldn't flinch away, you gently placed your palm on his cheek. You were so used to the feeling of the scruff always present on his face; the smooth, cold skin felt so foreign to you.

Your hand moved to where his mouth was, fingers ghosting to where his lips would've been until they reached the hole in the middle of his face. Your fingers traced the edge, and when you wanted to run your fingers over the surface, your hand sunk right into the hole.

You panicked, trying to get your hand back from wherever it had disappeared to, when Jonathan's hand came to your wrist, trying to get you to calm down. When you did manage to calm down, he gently pulled your hand from the hole, his hand still holding onto yours when you dropped it from his face. "I'm sorry, I probably should've told you about that first," he said, his large hand still engulfing yours. You noticed how incredibly cold his hand was.

"What was that even? What happened to you?" you asked. He sighed before looking down at your joined hands. "Do you mind if we go somewhere a bit warmer? You must be freezing."

˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚𖡼˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚

"So, to put everything briefly, after the accident at Alchamex you merged with a vial of dark matter, and it gave you the ability to create portals and travel inter-dimensionally."

"Yes."

"But it also mutated your body, and now you don't have a face."

"Yes."

"And for the last three months you've just been wandering around New York sleeping in alleyways and committing petty crimes to get some money?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

"Why didn't you come home, Jonathan?"

He let out a tired sigh, his head bowing a little lower in shame. If he still had a face his eyebrows would almost certainly have been furrowed, his brown eyes big and almost woeful.

"I was afraid you'd be scared of me," he said quietly, "that you'd find me repulsive and chase me away, like everyone else has when they see me." Your heart ached when you heard his confession, even more so when you had to think about how long he had been wandering around on the street, afraid and alone without anything to eat or anyone to go.

Too scared to come home.

You once again took his cold hand in yours, giving it a tight and hopefully reassuring squeeze, to which he lifted his head in reaction. "You don't ever have to feel afraid to come home, Jonathan," you said softly, watching the black spot on his face.

"This is our home, the home we created out of an old rundown apartment, together. You've seen me at my utter worse more times than I'd like to admit, and I want to feel that comfortable with me too." His head dropped once again, opting to stare at his legs as they bumped against yours. Your gaze followed his before they returned to his face, trying to coax him to look at you.

"Honey, please look at me," you said softly and his head lifted slowly. "I'm.. hardly the Jonathan I was. I don't even feel human anymore." The ache in your heart only worsened, the feeling making your chest feel heavier by the second.

"You're still my Jonathan, I know that," you said. "You're still the sweet guy I met all those years ago, who used to be terrified of me." you smlied when you heard the playful scoff from him. "You're still so kind, and compassionate and nothing can take that away because that's just who you are. You're still human, Jonathan, because you still have your humanity."

The room fell into a long silence, and for the first time that night you couldn't tell how Jonathan felt, you couldn't read him at all. "Please say something," you said softly, practically begging Jonathan to once again fill the silence, like he'd always done.

"I missed you," was what he said after a few more moments. You don't know why, but the confession had shocked you a little bit. You found yourself thinking about how often he'd been thinking about you. How many nights have we probably thought of each other at the same time. "I thought I'd never see you again," he added, voice heavy with dejection.

You hadn't even noticed that your grip had tightened until you felt Jonathan's hands squeeze you back, to ground both you and himself. "You don't know how much I missed you," you said, "I never stopped looking."

"I know," he said, the hole on his face once again trying to streatch into a smile. "Can I— can I hug you?" he asked, very unsure of his request. You didn't answer him, just letting go of his hands and wrapping your arms around him. His head fell to your shoulder as his arms also wrapped themselves around you. At once you could feel the weeks worth of tension, stress leaving your body as you felt Jonathan's cold skin against your cheek.

"What am I supposed to do now?" his voiced asked softly, his embrace on you tightening the slightest. "I don't know," you said honestly, "but I know you're not gonna do this alone. I'm gonna be here every step of the way."

That night the apartment wasn't as quiet as always.

[milgram-tournament]

MILGRAM Best Song Tournament, Round 2, Match 1 WEAKNESS vs. THE PURGE MARCH

Propaganda for both options under the cut!

Propaganda for WEAKNESS:

"This is definitely more of a personal anecdote. However, I’m neurodivergent (like Haruka) and struggle with knowing it causes quite a bit of disappointment for my mother. I cry about it a lot. But I find that putting on Weakness is soothing for me. Knowing that there’s a character out there with the same issues…. I don’t know. Just my experience."

---

"why weakness should win over umbilical: - THE SINGING THE HIGH NOTES - this song set the tone to what to expect for the trial songs to come (or what we expected) - the part where the song gets all slow paced and then picks up louder at the end it just done beautifully - it's haruka. - the singing sounds like a mix between of course singing and crying. the 'AHahA' sounds like manic laughing until the end when he's crying and it almost feels like he's sobbing while laughing. - the guitar and the drums complement his soft/sad-ish voice perfectly, especially at the beginning - very emotional, even if you didn't see the music video you can tell he's crying and mentally unwell I'm bad a propaganda, but vote for WEAKNESS!!!!"

Propaganda for THE PURGE MARCH:

"Despite the shorter length, the Purge March has several distinct sections in its structure.

It starts with a rolloff, and then… they don’t follow it. Amane isn’t here to follow the beat.

There’s the spoken-word intro and the upbeat first verse listing the tenets. The prechorus (“dou shiyou mo nai…”) has an amen break. The most-sampled four-bar drum beat. Well, there’s half of it. Is it supposed to mean something? Can I get an amen?

The chorus is so, so cheerful… unless you’re actually listening to the lyrics (“I’ll crush your throat too”) or watching the video. And it’s super catchy. 

The second part of the verse dials things back. Now we’re in reality. This is how Amane breaks her tenets. All the while, those tenets are spoken into both ears over the singing. Get some good headphones. She sounds different in each ear.

The music picks up again with the amen break as Amane happily strolls back home, and then-

Oh.

The somber second chorus, with Amane’s lower singing voice and mournful spoken words, leads into the final chorus, with new lyrics and a more forceful tone. The once-meaningless chanting now has real words. “You’re sorry? I don’t care! Please go ahead and die already.” You can hear Amane’s anger despite the cheerful melody. She harmonizes in the final phrase, as if to say “we’re in this together, me and my little color guard troop.” And finally, it’s just her. Speaking. "Oboetemasuka?" Accompanied by only a single drum.

She is both Amane Momose and not. She upholds the doctrines that she was raised with, but she can’t."

---

"Purge March is geniunaly one of my favorite pieces of fiction both in and out of the context of trauma. Its fantastically directed and composed. The batton twirling is spetacular and energetic, the set and character design of Amane conveys a lot about the world she’s in and the story she’s telling. Purge March contextulizes a lot of Magic in both expected and unexpected ways (insert the entire cat symbolism thesis here) Purge March casts Amane in the role of a scary child. The glowing eyes, the framing of Amane as Above the viewer, the brutality and catharsis of it all. It seems tailored made to make you Scared of her. It’s a continuation of the cycle of abuse that we the audience repeated in T1 when we gave her that verdict. A red flashing warning sign about the Inhumanity and Monsterous qualities of Amane Momose. But Amane as a monster is fufilling and freeing. Again, its deeply cathartic. I would write more if I wasnt so sleepy at the moment but its just some Fantastic work overall. Purge March is also just fantasitic vocally and also hids electricity sounds in the instrumental which I think is evil and awesome."

---

-Amane’s vocals and how they slowly get more and more off the deep end is both really sad and cool to watch.

-The symbolism of the marching band and the flags. Ifykyk

-The beginning where it sounds like a propaganda TV show… really shows just how far Amane’s thinking is rooted in her cult and how that’s shaped her perception.

-The LYRICS. They work so well but it’s also creepy AF considering it’s a child who’s singing it.

-“So there is no second time, I’ll give back the judgment that you gave to me!”

-The overlapping part… gives me chills everytime.

-Building off the last point, the last “I’ll crush your throat too.” Ouch.

-“Remember MY cries, MY repents, MY words of “I’m sorry” that I said to you?”

-The song also does a great job of showing how much the guilty verdict messed with her.

[dnd-smash-pass-vs]

As the year wraps up, I gotta get something off my chest, don't worry I'm not making a habit of this. Even though I know that the people who it's pointed at won't read or care, and the people who do see the resemblance to themselves likely won't be the ones I'm talking to. but I just had to delete multiple asks again, and it's stuff I get all the time, so I'm going to indulge in a little angry rant that you're free to ignore. Because seriously, I LOVE getting asks, I'd turn them off if I didn't. but some of ya'll REALLY don't understand there's a person on the other end of this. ...also, this is explicitly not pointed to the happy anon with the super long slaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad post last night, you're cool. I was just a really tired last night and hit delete on accident.

- Every time a post gets reblogged, it finds more monsterfuckers, but also more non-monsterfuckers. A less monstrous person doing well or winning does not mean you're the only monsterfucker here. don't fill my inbox with multi-paragraph "everyone here's supposed to be a monsterfucker" hate essays every time a monstrous option isn't in a massive lead, take it up with your followers if it matters to you that much. -Some of you are fine always voting against bone devil no matter what, but can't comprehend something auto-losing for a different reason. Like "I hate heat." Or strong smells, or frogs. Sometimes people don't like the option they chose, they just hate it less. I see the merit in near any option I post, even if it's not for me...but seeing why you like it doesn't me I do too, stop asking me to take sides. - Or the opposite, one of the most common tags is "I love both, but I have a core memory or fetish with one so that's my default." Choosing one doesn't mean they hate the other option and you specifically. I'd happily fuck them both, but one indulges a fetish more core to me than some of my organs. - Someone who would fuck a werewolf or manticore or such is a monsterfucker, even if they don't go further. You don't get to say they aren't a REAL monsterfucker because you decided their preferred monsters aren't monstrous enough. Do you to see someone thirsting over a butch and say they're not a REAL lesbian because you decided that's not girly enough? There's no need to be elitist or gatekeep. Especially in an ask, but also in general tbh.

- I'm a basic bitch too sometimes! Just because we like the weird stuff doesn't mean we have to start hating the basic stuff and those who indulge in it. kinkshaming goes both ways, neither of which should be sent to me. You are not the standard by which all is judged, you being relatively more kinky does not make them objectively less kinky. - Seriously, if tumblr is anything, it's the "Labels" site. where people come to learn thier labels, give themselves labels, show off thier labels, surround themselves in similar labels until they forget it's not the only label. Often while saying they hate labels. It's not even the monsterfucker website, Tumblr's just more neutral toward it instead of openly hostile. I get the disappointment, but don't direct it to me. TLDR: That shoggoth or whatever isn't going to become real and fuck you because you flooded my inbox with rants on how "anyone who didn't choose X is fake, and all ya'll aren't TRUE BELIEVERS of the ONE TRUE MONSTERFUCKER GOD." Sarenrae on a bike, It's my blog, and I say everyone's welcome as long as they stay civil. so be civil before I take the anon button away. At least some people have the guts to show their face when insulting anyone who likes ___ over ___

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Best and Worst of Both Worlds (28.5)

Tw: Evangeline is a molester reference, Monty got your number and hence stalking

This is like. An extremely short chapter, just want some votes to see what yall wanna do

So vOTE BELOW ONLY FIRST 21 VOTES WILL COUNT

part 29

"Very well. I will be taking the next available flight." His mouse clicks were audible, along with his furious keyboard typing.

You let out a surprised yelp, but he hasn't even been to the conference yet! How could he just travel back just like that?

"(name), 20 minutes is up. You should return the phone back to your housemate." He ignored your concerns, opting to remind you of what you're supposed to do.

As if on cue, she started banging on the door again. "Gimme back my phone!" You winced at her muffled shouting.

You hung up on Yves and screamed back to stop assaulting your poor door.

You opened the door and shoved the device into her hand before immediately retreating back into your refuge.

You wiped whatever leftover tears away and dialed Yves's number on your own phone. He picked up instantly.

"(Name), it's 5 in the evening now. Have you taken your dinner?" He asked. You heard shuffling and zipping in the background, he must be packing up everything.

You told him no. You're about to, then you asked what time it is at his place.

"It's eleven o'clock at night, my dear. I booked a flight that is at three in the morning. Accounting for the time differences, I will arrive at 8AM tomorrow- if there will be no delays."

You told him that he didn't have to do all this for you.

"(name)."

You sealed your lips at his vague warning.

"You should eat. It isn't good to starve yourself." Said Yves as he folded his clothes neatly into his suitcase.

You agreed and told him that you will call Yves back later.

There was a beat of silence before he lets out a hum of acknowledgement. Yves was disappointed that you wanted to end the call with him, when he wanted nothing but to feel your presence even though you're thousands of miles away.

Yves doesn't mind the silence as long as you were there. But it looks like you do. So he lets go.

"Goodbye, (name). I will see you tomorrow." You mumbled bye and hung up.

Now at least knowing Yves has your back, you had the courage to face your other notifications.

Just like you predicted, it was from none other than "Do not answer" and Evangeline.

Montgomery gave you eight missed calls, which you found terrifyingly unhinged. Whereas Evangeline sent you a few texts.

"Hi (name)!!! The sushi shop 15 minutes away from the campus has great reviews, wanna head there tomorrow for lunch? You get to avoid Mr stinky for once"

There was a picture of a person walking their dog, she sent it a few minutes after her first text. It seems like she took it while walking around in her neighbourhood.

"The dog reminded me so much of you!!!"

That was it. There were no further contact from her.

Montgomery on the other hand...

"hi hotstuff"

"R u still at school"

"come on answer my calls"

"i will take u out 4 dinner"

"i know u r reading my texts"

"Pls stop playing hard 2 get for a while i just wanna take u out for a nice date"

"(Name)???"

While reading his texts, he called you one more time. You declined it and eventually blocked his number. You considered blocking Evangeline's, but seeing that she isn't bothering you at the moment, you decided against it.

Flopping onto your bed, you finally have some peace of mind.

You tried thinking about Evangeline's behavior. She was weird and her vibes are becoming more and more off-putting. You knew her for a grand total of four days, yet she is acting like she knew you from birth.

At first, you just thought that she's naturally touchy and clingy, it made sense seeing that her friends abandoned her; she would have been a little too desperate to heed some social cues. But... you're not so sure if her friends abandoned her or she creeped them out.

It was jarring. A sweet, bubbly girl who is on a full scholarship can turn out to be this... thing.

You don't know if you should. But you have the urge to confront Evangeline about her unwanted touches, either over text or call. Preferably through messaging, at least you could hide your unhappiness with her.

You thought about the consequences of each, and what you hope to get out of it.

If you talked to her about it, perhaps it could be something forgivable. Maybe she was going through a rough time and she didn't mean to hurt you like this. She was the first "friend" who you didn't have to chase, after all.

Perhaps you couldn't forgive her for this. But you wanted to know what she was thinking. You wanted some closure and you knew if you don't ask her, you will never get it.

Besides, if things get too out of hand, you can just block her.

Or you should just sit and wait. Yves knows what to do, he has a lot more experience than you and would probably know what would happen.

Wait a minute. You can't just rely on a man to do everything for you. This is your life, you shouldn't need to consult Yves with every little thing.

You took a minute to weigh your options.

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

What if, in Twilight, as the Cullens are voting ob Bella's fate, Carlisle suddenly and inexplicably turned into a magical talking vampire cat?

Well, much like the time Edward turned into a talking dog, the Cullens now have a very new and immediate problem.

For a moment, they just stare at him, all thoughts of Bella Swan and the van forgotten.

They wait for Carlisle to turn back into a person.

He doesn't.

"Well, I guess we're moving," Carlisle eventually says.

The family now has a furious new debate: are they moving because Carlisle turned into a cat or not? Carlisle points out he has no idea how this happened and if he did it uh... he has no idea how to undo it. Even if it's temporary, they should probably move anyway because of this Bella Swan thing.

That Carlisle can't even go into work to resign (as resigning over the telephone isn't going to cut it) is... not great as there will probably be a missing person's investigation that his family can't stick around for.

"By the way, we're also going to live in the woods" - Carlisle Cullen, because Dr. Cullen not only can't show up anywhere else (even if he stops being a cat) but the other Cullens can't either because this will get investigated.

The family rages, Edward blames the gods thinking they're out to get him what with Bella Swan and Carlisle turning into a cat, but come morning there's no solution.

It's time to pack up the house.

(The next day at school, Bella is disappointed and horrified to see none of the Cullens there, she guesses, mildly correctly, that she ran them off with her insistent questioning the day before.

Bella regrets this for the rest of her life. Which is about only a few weeks as she has her adventure in Port Angeles to look forward to.)

The family heads to the Denali where the Denali are absolutely no help whatsoever and try to convince Edward to cheer up by sleeping with Tanya (Edward declines).

After a few weeks of being a cat, Carlisle breaks.

It's been three hundred years, he hasn't written in ages, Aro probably thinks he's dead but...

He has no choice.

And even if Aro's pissed at him for not calling, he'll be very very very interested in whatever's going on here.

"Guys, I need to call in a very awkward favor."

Alice and Jasper are immediately out, toodles Catlisle, as they're not stepping foot anywhere near Volterra. They vamoose. Edward holds it against them forever.

Edward is convinced he'll be pressured into joining the guard as well, BUT UNLIKE SOME PEOPLE HE KNOWS THE MEANING OF LOYALTY. Edward contemptuously accepts that someone like the Volturi might have heard of this and might have a solution, he'll just be on his guard and say no whenever they ask him to join.

(Edward's also lowkey pissed about Bella Swan and spends every moment plotting her demise, as Alice didn't tell him he was in love yet, but Catlisle takes priority for obvious reasons.

He tells himself he can return for Bella, only to see what she found out of course, later.

He can't because she dies in Port Angeles, but he doesn't know that.)

Cat in tow in a cat carrier held by Esme on the plane, they make their way to Volterra, where Carlisle gets to say, "Hello, I'm a cat now, please help"

Aro has very mixed feelings about this. On the one hand, Carlisle's alive and not dead in a gutter! On the other hand, he's a fucking cat.

Aro gladly takes him in and agrees to help him with his little problem.

Trouble is, Aro has only three theories.

The first is that someone gifted did this to Carlisle. Now, this level of power is probably a vampire, and it'd have to probably be someone who had at least met Carlisle or was in the area. There were no vampires in the area at the time and no one Carlisle (or Aro) has met has this particular gift.

Aro will look around, but it's probably not that.

The second is that Carlisle's gift is to turn into a fucking cat that he only found out after three-hundred years. Trouble is, he only found out after three centuries, and he hasn't been able to undo it in several weeks. It also happened at a seemingly random moment that, while stressful, was no moreso than any other moment in Carlisle's life.

Carlisle probably didn't turn himself into a cat.

"Though we'll work on it just in case," Aro assures him.

The last, and most likely, then is that... this is the consequence of the animal diet.

"No," Carlisle meows.

"Look, my friend," Aro points out, "You've been on this diet around the same amount of time as the Denali sisters, the longest of your own coven, and we have no idea the long term effects on anyone except there were certainly short term effects."

It's ridiculous.

But maybe, Carlisle, you are what you eat.

"I suggest you get off the diet," Aro kindly suggests.

"No," Carlisle meows again. He was willing to die in agony before the diet was even an option, granted, he didn't see becoming a cat on the table but dammit he'll take it.

Aro can't even, again, as usual.

"You'd rather be a cat, forever" Aro says dumbly.

Yes.

Also, Aro doesn't know it's the diet, maybe it's an act of some spiteful god. But if it is the diet then yes, Carlisle will be a cat forever.

"You would condemn your lovely family to be cats"

Now that....

Carlisle can't in good conscience do.

That will be a choice each of his family has to make.

Aro presents his case to the family. They may, in a few centuries time, all become cats if they continue this way of life.

Edward now has all the proof he needs that Aro is the devil and a corrupter and evil incarnate. This is clearly a scheme to get Edward hooked on human blood again, which will somehow draw Alice and Jasper back in, and Aro will supplement his guard with Edward's very gifted family. HE PROBABLY TURNED CARLISLE INTO A CAT AND CAUSED THIS ENTIRE MESS IN THE FIRST PLACE!

(Aro had no idea Carlisle was even alive, but that's not important.)

Edward points as much out to Carlisle.

Carlisle lets out a very long sigh and notes that, while he has no idea what caused this, he's certain Aro's innocent. Besides, if he really wanted their gifts he'd just use Chelsea, no need to go turning Carlisle into a cat.

That was the wrong thing to say, as Edward now finds out about Chelsea.

To keep this short, shenanigans ensue.

[myoldurlwasemo]

does anyone else find it insanely disappointing that in Silent Hill Ascension they just. straight up tell you which choice to vote for to get a good/neutral/bad ending. i can't be the only person who finds this profoundly lame and unfun, and also just against the spirit of the series. i haven't seen anyone else mention this yet but it immediately made me not care even a little. like okay just fucking lay it out there why don't you. give me back my esoteric choices and picking up one random item that doesn't seem to have any bearing whatsoever on what's happening

[whipitgod]

Under Different Circumstances.

Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

oneshot (?) - wc: 2.2k

summary: Bucky is a live figure model and Steve feels kind of like he might pass out. AU

warnings: not canon compliant, light swearing, allusions to sex, and crack-ish as usual

a/n: you guys voted for artist steve/figure model bucky in the poll so here it is!! i hope this doesn't disappoint cause i struggled a bit with how to end this one. lmk if you want me to write a pt.2 to this with their date! If you like this remember to leave a like/reblog! maybe even follow me :D! Happy reading!!

!!!!REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!!!

The only phrase his mind can seem to supply him is a mortified, oh sweet merciful Jesus. The most attractive man he’s ever seen is standing naked in front of him posed like the Hercules of Farnese statue, and Steve feels like he’s going to pass out. Steve had barely looked up from where he was setting up his art materials when the man had walked in, only looking at him once the instructor had begun introducing him.

The instructor had clapped her hands together, gaining the attention of everyone in the room, “This is James,” she’d motioned to the man standing next to her, “He’s gonna be our live model today.”

The man had smiled at this, waving at all the people sitting behind easels, “Please call me Bucky, you’re all about to see me naked; I think we can move past the formalities.”

Steve thinks he’d heard a few people laugh at the comment but honestly, he's not really sure, way too focused on the man, Bucky, starting to disrobe at the instructors prompting. The blood had immediately rushed from Steve's head down to a lower part of his body making him shift awkwardly, not taking his eyes off where the man was being instructed on how to pose. 

That was over 5 minutes ago, and Steve has yet to do more than draw a rough outline of the pose; Steve knows the man is aware of his struggle too, the asshole had winked at him when he’d caught the blonde staring, mouth slightly agape. Steve had almost flinched at the wink, his gaze immediately shifting to the paper in front of him as his face heated. He can feel how red his face and ears are and he knows Bucky can see it; Steve’s never been the most devout religious person but, in that moment, he sends up a silent plea to whatever higher power there might be to put him out of his misery.

With more strength and determination than he honestly thought he was capable of, Steve focuses on the drawing in front of him, beginning to sketch the hard planes of the man's muscles. Good god what is this guy's workout routine? Steve’s not naive, he knows he’s an attractive guy. He’s put a lot of effort into his body and appearance in general and he knows his build is impressive, but sweet Jesus so is Bucky’s.

Is it weird if I ask him how he’s getting that much muscle definition before I try to sleep with him? The thought causes a quiet chuckle to leave him before he can stop it, the sound cutting through the silence of the room causing a few heads to turn towards him much to Steve's horror. He can feel his face getting hot and resolutely stares at the sketch in front of him; He can feel Bucky staring at him and when Steve chances a glance up from his paper he immediately meets the man’s curious gaze and quickly looks back down.

He’s got to admit, the dark-haired man is a little intimidating, not even just appearance wise. Bucky had been staring at him just about as much as he’d stared at Bucky, with his brows furrowed like he’s trying to figure Steve out. Steve would almost describe the look Bucky was giving him as being resemblant of the kind of look you give someone when they owe you money.

Steve isn’t ashamed to admit that the look is doing nothing to deter his growing attraction to the man in front of him, he’d even go as far to admit that it's making him more attractive. Steve really doesn’t want to think about what being attracted to a man that looks kind of like he wants to punch you means for him from a psychological standpoint; Whatever it means Steve is sure of one thing, and it's that the man has a serious resting bitch face, and it's really doing it for him.

Steve miraculously manages to finish the sketch, only getting sidetracked a few more times as he works. He's broken out of his focus by the sound of the instructor announcing the end of the class and he chooses not to look up when he hears the instructor tell Bucky he can go get dressed, thanking the man for coming. He packs his materials with a practiced efficiency, only stopping when he hears the sound of footsteps approaching his station

Looking up from his bag he’s met with the sight of Bucky smiling down at him, he sucks in a sharp breath as he meets the man's eyes. How is he hotter up close? Steve stares blankly at the man for a moment before standing from where he was crouched putting his stuff away, he makes note of the fact that they are almost the same height; Bucky was probably about an inch or so shorter than him but just as broad. 

The man holds out his hand for Steve to shake and he grabs it hoping that his hands aren’t sweating enough for Bucky to notice, “Hi, you must be Steve?” at Steve’s ensuing confusion he continues on, “I’m a friend of Sam’s”

Steve’s brows furrow deeper at this, “You know Sam?”

“Yeah, he’s actually the one who told me I should do this. He’s always trying to get me to step out of my comfort zone.”

Yeah, out of his comfort zone and into Steve’s apparently. Steve feels his eye twitch slightly; he’s going to kill Sam, “Oh yeah? Given that you recognized me, I assume Sam told you about me? All good things I hope.” 

Bucky gives him another smile at this that Steve can't help but return, the man's smile doing weird things to the blonde's stomach, “All good things. He honestly didn’t say much about you, just that he had a friend named Steve that took the class.”

Steve lets a breath he wasn't aware he was holding at Bucky’s response, but his relief is only short lived because apparently the man wasn't done, “He also told me that you would be the blonde one that was and i quote, ‘built like a brick shithouse’,” Bucky stops for a moment, eyes trailing up and down Steve's body before landing back on his face, a teasing smile forming on his face, “and I gotta say, he wasn’t lying.”

The man is confident, almost bordering on cocky, but Steve reasons that the confidence is justified. Most of the time Steve would say that an attitude like the one Bucky has meant that a man was overcompensating but Steve had just stared at Bucky in all his nude glory for close to an hour and he can confirm that there is no overcompensating happening here. Yeah, he looked, he’s not ashamed to admit it; it was kind of hard not to when he had to draw it. 

Steve's mouth feels dry as he chokes out a thank you and Steve’s floundering only serves to embolden Bucky, the man’s teasing grin stretching even further and a soft sound akin to a laugh leaving him. Steve manages to regain his footing a bit, he squares his shoulders and decides that two can play this game. He wants to flirt? I’ll show him flirting, I'm gonna flirt so hard it knocks him on his ass, “I wish Sam had told me about you, I would’ve loved to see you naked for the first time under different circumstances.” 

The words shock Steve a little bit as they leave him, dear god reel it in Steve. He’ll be the first to admit that he might’ve taken it a bit far, he just met the guy and he’s probably actively scaring him off. Much to Steve's delight and surprise Bucky lets out a sharp bark of laughter at the words, shaking his head slightly, a wide smile taking over his features once more.

The dark-haired man digs in his pocket, pulling out his phone and unlocking it before handing it to Steve, “I would love to explore what these ‘different circumstances’ entail,” Steve begins typing his number into the blank contact Bucky had pulled up, “But right now I have to run, I’m meeting my sister for lunch.”

Steve hands the man his phone back and he sees Bucky set the contact's name to ‘brick shithouse’ and he has to bite back the laugh that threatens to escape him at this, “Well how about you text me later and we can set something up?”

“Oh definitely,” Bucky’s eyes trail up and down Steve's body for what feels like the hundredth time before continuing, “I’d be crazy not to.”

Steve lets out a laugh that’s honestly more of a giggle that makes Bucky’s smile even wider; Steve’s never been this humiliated and turned on at the same time, it's a little bit startling.

“It was nice to meet you, Steve.” The man starts walking away before Steve can even begin to form a response, and he stands motionless watching Bucky’s retreating form.

As soon as the man is out of the room Steve is fumbling for his phone, pulling it out and immediately clicking on his best friend’s contact. The phone only rings a few times before Sam picks up, “Hey what's up ma-”

“I want you dead.” Steve cuts off the other man's greeting in a sharp tone as he picks up his bag of art supplies.

“Good afternoon to you too, I assume you met Bucky.” Steve can hear the smirk in Sam’s voice, and it makes him falter for a second.

He gathers himself after a second of silence, “Oh my god! You planned this!”

“You can’t prove that.”

“Cut the shit Sam.”

A quiet chuckle echoes through the phone, “and if I did? You kept complaining about being single and I got sick of hearing it all the time.”

“It's not right to spring this kind of thing on me! I need at least forty-eight hours to emotionally prepare for a situation like that.”

“I’m sure it was fine, you are a frustratingly attractive dude, it's kind of hard for you to scare someone off.”

Steve breathes a laugh at this, “Aw Sam, do you have something you want to confess to me?”

“Oh yeah man, I'm sorry you had to find out about my undying love for you this way.” The words come through the phone in a sarcastic deadpan that has Steve letting out a laugh that's more of a cackle than anything, “So how did it go?”

“It went good, I stared at his dick for an hour and then all but asked him to bend over.”

Steve hears Sam choke at this, and the sound of a cup being set down aggressively followed by coughing as Sam recovers from the statement. Sam takes a second to regain his composure while Steve laughs at him, “Jesus Christ man.”

I’m kidding,” a brief pause, “kind of. I did stare at his dick, and I did say that I wanted to see him naked under different circumstances.”

Sam is quiet for a moment before responding with a pained sounding, “I’m happy for you.”

Steve laughs harder at this, catching his breath slightly he pushes on, “I think we’re gonna meet up later,” he stops for a second, what can only be described as a shit-eating grin forms on his face, “Hey, do you know if Bucky’s a top or a bottom? I don’t really care either way, I just want to know what I should prepare for. He kind of gave of top vibes but I could picture him bending o-”

“I’m hanging up now.” 

Steve hears the beeping that comes when you end a call and pulls his phone away from his face, he laughs so hard his sides start to hurt, a few tears escape, and he wipes at them. As grateful as Steve is that Sam orchestrated him meeting Bucky, He’s still a little bit bitter over the lack of warning and he intends on making Sam suffer a bit. He sends a text to Sam that reads ‘Jockstrap or no jockstrap?” Sam only sends a thumbs down emoji in response and Steve fights the urge to break down into another laughing fit. 

His phone beeps with a text from an unknown number, the text reads, ‘Hey it’s the guy who’s junk you stared at for an hour, we kind of went about this backwards. Dinner tonight? I can pick you up at 7.” the phrasing of the first part making Steve’s shoulders shake with silent laughter; How romantic.

Steve stares at the text for a minute before responding, ‘7 is perfect, can’t wait!’ The message was initially typed with at least six exclamation points before Steve had thought better of it, he sent another text with his address before closing his phone and letting out a squeal that if asked about he would deny. His head snaps up at the sound of someone clearing their throat, and Steve is mortified to find the instructor standing a few feet away from him with curious eyes.

Steve huffs a nervous breath, “Oh hey, didn’t see you there.”

“Are you alright?”

“Oh, I'm great.”

[xieni-logs]

arlan x reader who is a part of the nameless?

sorry if im asking to much omg

Seven Days

a/n: the request was kind of vague so I’m so sorry if this isn’t what you wanted! reader is part of the astral express because they’re technically the nameless

arlan is always a little more sad than he lets on when you leave. he knows you cant stay forever, but he wishes you'd stay longer. though, he understands. you both have your own lives and duties you follow; him on herta's space station and you on the astral express.

you try your best to visit him as often as you can, but the astral express's next location is decided on a vote. unfortunately, you're often outvoted when you suggest the next location be herta's space station for the umpteenth time in a row. every couple weeks, the astral express crew takes pity and end up at herta's space station. don't worry, you aren't bothering them. caelus/stelle has to visit herta and test her simulated world so you aren't the only one that needs and wants to visit the space station.

the astral express spends an average of seven days at each stop.

on the first day, you spend a good portion of the day looking for arlan. poor him, always so busy with a such a demanding boss. when you do manage to track him down, he's busy running around doing his tasks. he'll spare you a minute or two but that's all he can afford, unfortunately. you asked if you could stay in his room but he began getting flustered and denied saying “it’s not really clean so I wouldn’t want you to stay there- I mean I do but it’s messy and I don’t want you dirty.” you’re a little disappointed, you won’t lie.

the second day is far better than the first. he told you where and when to meet him. he's taking his lunch break at exactly 1:35pm so meet him by the vending machines, yeah? you spend roughly an hour with him; eating, talking, even playing holodisc with peppy! then he’s back to work. you’re free to go around the space station the rest of the time, or you can spend time on the express or hanging around in arlan’s room. arlan cleaned out his room so now you’re free to enter! after a long day of work and knowing you’re on the ship but he can’t meet you, arlan gladly melts in your arm as you both drift to sleep.

the third day is like the second, only you get a little more intimate with arlan. it’s odd really, he gets really shy after not seeing you for weeks. ok, in his defense, he hasn’t held hands or kissed anyone in weeks- months! it feels kind of weird to do it again, but he likes it. meeting arlan again is learning physical touch all over again. from holding hands with him being as stiff as a board and hugging but he forgot where his arms go to him acting like you guys are about to kiss for the first time, it’s honestly adorable. he’s pretty quick with getting used to physical touch again so by day 3, you’re back to naturally holding hands, hugging, and kisses! this time, you don’t sleep in his room at night. instead, you and arlan sleep in your cabin on the astral express!

the fourth day is probably the best, at least more fun day. he gave his personal leave notice on the first day and it only got approved for today. you and arlan are free to do whatever you want the whole day! maybe because it’s the most laid back day the two of you have, you both end up sleeping in. and once you wake up, you spend the next couple hours over a cup of coffee as you and arlan talk about anything and everything. unfortunately, there aren’t many date options for your situation so this is your best pick. the two of you enjoy the day together, enjoying each other’s company after a long time of not having it. at the end of the day, you both go back to the space station and end up asleep in arlan’s room.

when you wake up on the sixth day, arlan is gone. he’s off working, while you laid in his bed. it always feels a little lonely and melancholy on the sixth day. but this is the day you often pay a visit to asta and enjoy a chat over some tea with her. there’s not much you can do on this day, not much you want to do anyways. you’d make multiple rounds around the station, and bump into arlan if you’re lucky. small chats before he has to get back to the task at hand are sadly the only times you can talk to him. arlan misses you too, don’t think it’s one sided. he really is trying his best to hurry up with all his assignments but herta is a terrible boss; the faster he does them, the more he has to do.

sometimes you wish the seventh day never comes. it’s another day of only being with arlan during his short breaks. but its the worst day because you know there's no tomorrow to see him again. you'll wait weeks and weeks for a chance to see him again. to spend a short seven days with him.

so until you see him again, little goodmornings and goodnights sent seemingly at random due to the time differences, calls that go from minutes to hours long, and a lot of pictures of things around the both of you sent to each other will have to do.

more a/n: i wanted to write about arlan visiting you on the astral express but it might be too much so maybe a second part/version to this. ended up writing this on the car on a 3 hour road trip, not edited or anything! not sure what to name this either so it’s kinda random lol

[the5n00k]

Ollie Chen and the Concept of Identity and Self Worth

Not as long as the other analyses so I won't cut it this time

Quite a few people have boiled down this character's entire arc to prejudice and unlearning taught behaviors but I refuse to believe that is all there is to this character. Especially after one of his biggest episodes came After his redemption arc and explored his insecurities. Which is where I come in and lay them out for you in a long, convoluted, half asleep essay detailing what makes this character so interesting and personally relatable to myself! (Sadly)

Ollie is a good kid. He was raised to believe and build his entire personality and life off of the idea that he is the good guy and ghosts are the bad guys. He's disappointed in himself when he thinks he's failed the "greater good" of Brighton by losing the story sprite in Book Marks the Sprite. It's not hard to see he has a major hero complex and believes that if he's not saving the day himself, he's disappointing everyone. It's not ever spoken but it could be a product of his father.

Ruben Chen is ALSO very goal oriented and on a one track mission to rid the world of ghosts with more passion than his other family members. He's the one that single handedly convinced the entire family that ghosts are bad because of a traumatic experience. By failing to capture a ghost, Ollie is failing his dad. Everyone at some point in their lives has wanted to make their parents (or somebody they look up to) proud. And it's devastating to him to believe that he doesn't. He reminds me of Varian from Tangled the Series in that aspect, trying to make his father proud and putting on a persona when he's just a scared little kid. (Another character I was skeptical about joining the main cast of characters I was familiar with only to fall madly in love with his character arc)

Another thing he's built his life around is the title "research specialist". He's the so-called "expert" on ghosts according to the GCC metube introductory video. So during A Frightmare on Main Street, when Molly, the first person he bonded with in this new town, the first person he told about their ghost hunting, his CRUSH, tells him he knows NOTHING about real ghosts?

He is DEVASTATED.

His whole life, his title, crumbled in an evening. Faced with the reality that he had been misinformed since birth and that him and his family are the REAL bad guys. He denies it, (multiple times before this too, so much so that Molly was so fed up, she finally said what she had been feeling about his family's ideology for MONTHS) obviously that is one difficult truth to just suddenly accept. But he eventually comes to terms with it. Happy ending, right? He's not a bad guy anymore! Well...

Here's where the self worth comes in. If he's not a ghost hunter and isn't part of a team doing good anymore, who is he? He was the research specialist, he had a mildly successful metube channel with his family (who still hunt ghosts btw!), if he's not useful to them, what's his purpose?

They don't really explore this aspect very much aside from visually showing it to the audience in the episode The Unhaunting of Brighton Video. He's seen not quite keeping up with the rest of his new group, The Ghost Friends. He's awkward, out of sync, doesn't understand their inside jokes, he's almost completely excluded for the first part of the episode. Scratch even voted against him joining the group to begin with. (Apparently Libby voted for him with Molly, I wish we could have seen that exchange and dramatic gasp of betrayal from Scratch) It doesn't help that the ghost is yelling at him for most of the episode for being a screw up despite being a screw up himself.

Honestly Ollie and Scratch have more in common than you'd think in terms of reinventing yourself and being afraid of your past but that's a post for another day.

The next episode I get this read from is Let's Play Turnipball. In it, Ollie plays a very convoluted and confusing local game along with Molly's coaching. And right away you can tell he is Not confident and that she is totally overselling him. He knows he's going to let everyone down because he can't remember any of the stupid rules. He tries his best and for the most part is successful until he loses them the game by accident. (While Perfektborg is actively trying to lose, hope Molly didn't tell him that) He kicks, curses the game, and walks away to go mope about his loss. He just wanted to prove himself in this new town he's still unfamiliar with. He wanted to be useful otherwise he would have just told Molly he didn't want to play anymore. But he didn't want to let anyone down.

But then, the entire town embraces him in a celebration!

He's... confused. But excited! And accepts the town's appreciation. It was so nice to finally see him get a dub for once.

My conclusion for this? Ollie was raised misinformed and misled for his entire life, yes. But that affected him beyond his anti-ghost agenda. He became reliant on being the hero (A Frightmare on Main Street) and stubborn in his beliefs, believing everyone else wrong. He's TERRIFIED for most of the season because of this, by far the jumpiest member of the ghost friends. He's traumatized by horror stories and insurmountable expectations of saving the world from a supernatural threat that isn't even there. Unless you count the frightmares in which case, yeah, sure, I'll give you that. So when all of that was ripped away from him and turned on its head, his entire self image SHATTERED.

I almost wish we had an episode to explore that but it doesn't seem like we'll get that. But this scared, confused boy is finally coming to terms with the fact that he doesn't have to be The Ghost Hunter or Molly's Hero to be useful. Heck, he doesn't even need to have Molly to be in the show. (UNLIKE SOME LOVE INTERESTS COUGH COUGH WENDY COUGH COUGH WASTED POTENTIAL)

He's becoming his own person outside of The Ghost Chaser Chens. And I'm excited to see how they'll react when they find out.

[robotlesbianjavert]

Ten headcanons about spinner please

well you asked so nicely. okay!

10) i think i've already mentioned this in the past and some fics but despite what you expect from someone with reptile associations he's not anymore affected by the cold than any other warm-blooded person. and he knows it's a silly thing to get sensitive about but well when people assume he gets a bit heated!! so to say!!

9) he first learned how to use a knife, and in particular knife throwing tricks, from his mom, who is most of the born and bred country rep in his family and grew up with very little else to do and really needed a cool party trick. between her and toga, knife-throwing is his only surefire way to bond with women.

8) who is the biggest bara rep in league of legends. idk mordekaiser looks promising. in any case spinner's first glimmer of realizing that he is gay was accidentally stumbling upon LoL bara doujinshi, on the internet. somehow the continuing fascination for bara did not translate to real life where he keeps going gaga for weird skinny weirdos with disappointing t&a (UNTIL shigaraki's ujiko-provided glow-up)

7) his backup plan for going to the city after seeing stain on tv if he failed to find and join the league of villains was just to hit all the clubs and get laid. but as a virgin and hikkikomori he was very nervous about this option and was kind of relieved that he could just join a terrorist group instead.

6) i used this one in a fic too lmao. as a kid his claws were filed down regularly so that other kids and the rest of the town didn't freak out and think he was gonna gut them. cuz they're evil. as part of the headcanon of it all he does have weird hang-ups and

5) backseat gamer. like, pathological. much like myself as a child watching my stepbrothers play zelda or conker's bad fur day, he will sit over shigaraki's shoulder (and anyone else's i guess but he's literally so under-socialized he doesn't know anyone else who plays videogames irl. sad!) and be like i wouldn't have done that. you're supposed to go over there. why aren't you using all these cheat codes that i know (they don't work). thankfully shigaraki is cool with this cuz he loves to argue. i actually consider this canon enough given that we have now seen spinner hanging over shigaraki's shoulder as he's playing games.

4) were a tumblr equivalent to exist in bnhaverse spinner would have an account and he would try to be crazy stealth and not have it associated to any other social accounts ever and he would be a hater on it and you could not pay him to commit voter fraud for something against his morals (shipping polls) (he would have voted destiel!! he knows he is cas-coded!!) but he would create so many dummy accounts manually by hand HIMSELF like a hard worker to influence results as much as he could. without paying people. or getting bots. he has a pure hater soul.

3) related to the above spinner is a constant hater online. people ask him what does he ever like and he just regurgitates whatever video essay he watched recently that had a nice thing to say. but his hater stances are 100% original. not to say that he never Likes something about anything but he's dogshit at expressing it.

2) part of his issues is that he was very unintentionally detached from any other of his heteromorph-related family that he could relate to (a lot of the family was probably located in cities) aside from whatever parents or siblings, which contributed further to his feelings of isolation from the community he grew up in, and his heteromorphic traits were just enough more apparent compared to the immediate family that he was more targeted by the community he grew up in. so he's both discriminated and marginalized by the community, and has a harder time finding solace in his family to cope.

1 ) i must once again stand by spinner's hybistrophilia. like really specifically his true fantasy is a cool suave older man who does a lot of serial killing and is willing to take spinner under his wing and say ah i see you have a lot of potential. but then he fell in love with shigaraki. that's how you know it's true love. i guess you can argue that shigaraki is an old soul.

[i-write-hurt-not-comfort]

DIABOLIK LOVERS EPIC SHIP BATTLE - ROUND 3 

aaaand we move to round 3! here is round 1 and round 2 if you missed 'em. there's a 3-way vote in this one due to the odd number. so these are the results from round 2! 

here's the Google Forms for Round 3! please only vote once, as i have turned off email log in to make it anonymous and more accessible, so help me make this fair by only voting once for each!

poll lasts 6 days and closes at 8pm UK time (GMT+1), or 12pm midday PST on SATURDAY 26TH AUGUST. if you need to google your own timezone that’s easy too. i’ll post round 3 results and open the round 4, the final poll, on sunday 27th! have fun and reblogs appreciated!

under the cut is the general results and a message for everyone. 

we got 300 responses this time in total, which is about the same as round 1! regarding the results, i'm interested to see how subayui and shuyui play out because i know those are people's favourites. i also find it funny that kinoyui won over laiyui. do people really not wanna see laito have yui? lmao, i kinda get why. 

now a PSA. and this is important. nobody's personal opinion is an insult to you. i had to address this in a post here because i got some persistent anons (who earned themselves a nice little block) but i'll say it again. it's not that deep. the diaboy/diaboy ships were eliminated in round 1, and that's okay! it's an otame game, it's hardly surprising. BUT people are well within their right to be disappointed or shocked themselves by that result. 

regardless of whether they're fanon or not, people love shuuma, reijiruki, subakou, kinoshin etc. it's not fair to try and spoil the fun by saying "well actually X character doesn't like men in canon" because we know. you don't need to go out of your way to disprove somebody's beloved ship just because you personally don't like it. i really thought we were past this. if i get anyone else sending anon hate or being rude/overly negative, i will block in sight. 

thanks for listening, and have fun with round 3! 

[defectivequeerforceuser]

I think we should celebrate long term fans who have been in the fandom forever... but I also think we should celebrate fandom transplants who've recently come to make fandoms we love more vibrant and fun!

I, personally, joined the Star Wars fandom a little over a year ago today. It's not that I hadn't been a Star Wars fan before - I loved the originals as a kid (and of course had seen the prequels) and spent hours running around pretending to be Star Wars characters or playing with my action figures (yes, little girls collect them too). But, when the first of the Rey movies came out and I went to the movie in my first ever cosplay as Leia from Hoth I was devastated - pretty soon my Star Wars figures were packed away and I'd moved on to different fandoms (no offense to the sequels, of course, but I'll never unlike the horror of being 11, sitting in the front row of the late showing, and watching Han Solo die on the screen). So, for most of my teenage years I kinda looked down on Star Wars as a thing of the past. Then Andor came out. I know, I know, it was only a year ago, but boy did it make an impact! I'd really enjoyed Rogue One and remembered liking Cassian's character, but that show... man, it took me by surprise. Just like that I'd fallen back into the fandom as a hardcore RebelCaptain shipper and a devoted Rogue One (and Andor) groupie. And then things started to take off! Next I watched The Mandalorian while reading all the Rogue One related novels I could get my hands on. Then I asked my sister to pick Rebels or Bad Batch for our summer viewing (I voted Bad Batch) and we took of on a Rebels filled summer that ended with Ahsoka which I frankly found disappointing but which inspired some of the most popular fan fiction I've written to this day. Growing up my parents didn't let me and my siblings watch TV shows (until I was 12 and bagging to watch Avatar: The Last Airbender) so I'd never seen the Star Wars TV shows (honestly, I was a live action purest). Let me tell you, I'm kinda glad I didn't! These shows are NOT for kids but they're perfect for me :) Then, I fell down the Bad Batch rabbit hole (starting last fall). I still looove Rogue One and Andor, but they became second favorites as I was sucked in to the nontraditional, queer coded, found family that is the Bad Batch - Hunter has become my Star Wars alter ego and honestly I hope that never changes. Now I'm working my way through The Clone Wars while of course enjoying and dreading each new installment of the Bad Batch's final season. I know it's only been a year, and maybe something will shake me from the fandom, but honestly, I'm pretty sure I'm here to stay - being a transplant fan is awesome!!