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[limoncats]

my brain hurts why is LGBTQ+ stuff so cOMPLICATED

[djotime-allthetime]

Freaky Red Carpet

synopsis: your final red carpet appearance with fred for gladiator ii. (your first public appearance as a couple?)

wc: 4k+

warnings: rpf! reader is specified to be inexperienced!

a/n: same general vibes as the last one but more introspective ig, but we go into more specifics here as well as some backstory.

italics are supposed to be comments under tiktok clips of the premiere. feedback is writer's fuel!

cross posted on AO3

<<previous part

The screams and chaos of the premiere crashed over you as you stepped out of the car, a security guard’s hand reached for yours to steady you. This was it, the final big event. Even though it wasn’t over just yet, the nostalgia was creeping in, soft but persistent.

“Hey, pretty girl.” Fred’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts. He stood only a few steps ahead of you, having just arrived himself. Your gaze softened, lingering on Fred, oblivious to the cameras snapping away. “You look…” His gaze dipped once—then again—tracing your figure. A soft, unguarded smile tugged at his lips, as if he didn’t realize he was doing it. As if he was completely enraptured by you. “You’re stunning, you know that?”

The ability to speak escaped you for only a moment, the words caught in your throat. “...Fred, you can’t-”

“No, I’m serious.” He shook his head, eyebrows raised. He walked forward and placed his hands on your shoulders, holding you in place to continue studying you, as if he was in awe. “Look at you.” His eyes finally found yours again. “You’re gorgeous, y/n.”

“Thank you.” The words felt stronger than your voice. You weren’t insecure—you knew you looked good tonight. But having someone say it like that—having Fred say it like that, like he couldn’t even keep the thought to himself—it nearly brought you to tears.

A deafening roar of cameras and voices dragged you back to reality. The glow of flashing lights blurred at the corners of your vision, and distant shouts of your name cut through the haze. You straightened your posture instinctively, smoothing invisible creases in your dress. But Fred could see it. He could see that small moment you tried to keep to yourself.

“Hey, come here.” He spoke softly, less of a request and more of a warning of the oncoming embrace. He pressed his hands between your shoulders blades once you settled into him, chin hooked against his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

You shook your head vehemently, the silky smooth finish of his suit rubbing against your neck. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

“I made you emotional.”

“You always make me emotional.” You chuckled, voice light to keep the tears at bay, unsure why they even came in the first place. “You look incredibly handsome tonight.” 

“Yeah?” He asked, his smile and excitement clear in his voice.

“Of course.” You pulled away and jerked your chin at his outfit. “We’re almost matching.”

With a quick second look at the color scheme of your outfit compared to his, Fred’s eyes lit up. “We are!”

“I think Grant and Leslie set us up.” You squinted your eyes conspiratorially. “I heard them talking about ‘all black looks’ yesterday.”

“Really?” He raised his brows at the information. “Come to think of it, Leslie refused to even entertain any of my suggestions today.” Fred laughed it off and reached down to hold you. His hands smoothly slid down your arms until they arrived at your hands, interlacing your fingers together. “Come on.” He tilted his head toward the carpet behind him. “Walk with me.”

“Down the carpet?” You gawked, frozen in place as he gently pulled you in the direction of the flashing lights.

“Yeah pretty, down the carpet.” Fred chuckled like you were joking. “It’s why we’re here, isn’t it?”

“You wanna take pictures with me? Like us- together?” You whispered to Fred, not fully paying attention to the cameras already catching every moment. As Fred’s hand tightened around yours, you realized.

You weren’t exactly hiding this—not entirely. Your blossoming relationship, that is. Keeping things personal and quiet felt right for both of you. But this—walking a red carpet together—had never been part of the plan.

“‘Course I wanna take pictures with you.” Fred answered, eyes soft but certain. “We worked super closely on this movie, y/n. I don’t think people will over analyze if we take pictures together on the carpet.” He shrugged. His words meant more than that, though. You knew he meant that you could do whatever you wanted. That you shouldn’t limit yourself in your relationship just because you wanted boundaries. Keeping it private didn’t mean keeping it a secret, like you were doing something wrong. 

“Besides, you’re my Lovie.” His voice softened, almost shy, like he wasn’t sure if you’d still claim the title in front of all these people.

Your neck grew warm at his words.

Lovie.

That was the name you and Fred called your deliberately unnamed character throughout filming. Caracalla called her ‘my love’ almost exclusively in the script. So it became your quick shorthand between each other. And soon after, the rest of the cast and crew called your character that as well. But it was different with Fred. After a while, it stopped being her name for him. It was you. You were his Lovie.

“Oh- Okay, yeah.” You nodded at Fred, accepting the idea of walking the carpet together, though still slightly apprehensive. 

“Yeah?” He asked again, just to make sure. And with another nod from you, Fred’s victorious smile lingered as his hand settled on the small of your back, sending sparks up your spine. “Gotta show off my girl,” he murmured, his hand pressing a little firmer into you. You weren’t sure if he wanted you to hear that or not, but you did. The way Fred could unravel you, seemingly without even trying, felt wildly unfair—like every tender gesture was second nature to him. 

He led you up the crimson steps, where the carpet shimmered beneath camera flashes and distant voices blurred into a roar. Your name and Fred’s were being called from every which way. Before you could stand still and face a specific group of photographers, Fred moved away from your side all of a sudden, his steps quick and fluid. 

“Fred?” you asked, instinctively glancing over your shoulder.

“One second.” His voice was low, nearly lost in the noise. When you turned, you saw Fred at your other side by your feet. He crouched smoothly to get closer to what he was after. The train of your dress. It wasn’t that long, but the small trek up the stairs had it all misshapen. With precise movements, he tugged at the fabric to position it into place. After he straightened it out sufficiently, he stood back up and stepped around his handiwork to come back at your side, arm looping around your waist to pull you back into him.

“You didn’t have to do all that.” You looked up at him through your lashes as your hands came up to rest against his chest. You adjusted his lapels in a subconscious attempt to return the favor, brushing away the imaginary lint on his chest and shoulders. Fred visibly blushed at your words, your hands on him, the way that you were looking at him, all of it. You displayed your emotions in a way that even he couldn’t dismiss. Not that he would want to. He loved it. Every moment. Being cared for so openly made his heart flutter and his ears turn red, it was exhilarating.

“I wanted to.” He reassured you, head nodding down softly, a subtle attempt at getting closer to you.

A piercing shout of your name followed by a burst of blinding light shattered the quiet moment.

The soft bubble you and Fred had built around yourselves burst, replaced by the harsh glare of cameras and the relentless hum of the crowd.

You dropped your hands from Fred’s chest, suddenly aware of how close you were.

But Fred’s hand stayed where it was, anchoring you in the thrashing waves of it all.

You turned this way and that, following the voices of photographers as they shouted out different poses they wanted to see.

“I could get used to this.” Fred spoke quietly, leaning down to whisper into your ear. 

You frowned in confusion and turned to look at him. “Which part exactly?” You asked. 

“Having the prettiest girl in the world on my arm.”

“Was this your plan tonight?” You couldn’t hide your grin no matter how hard you tried. “To kill me with compliments?”

“Not a bad way to die, no?” Fred furrowed his brows in faux seriousness, his mouth twitching in that way it did, a twinkle of mirth in his eyes.

You rolled your eyes with a giggle. “You’re a horrible man, Fred Hechinger.”

‘idk if they’re together or not and i want to be respectful but theyre literally the cutest people ever and if its true then theyre perfect for each other 🥺 truly wish them the best’

‘the mouth thing he does is actually the cutest thing ive ever seen’ ↳ ‘hottest. i think you mean hottest.’

‘look at the matching outfits!! i can’t! theyre too frickin cute!!!’ ↳ ‘its just all black lol y’all read into things too much 🙄’

‘we need a lip reader up in here 🗣️🗣️’

‘we love a man who knows the importance of the dress’

‘how does she just look better and better at each public appearance?!’

‘this is flirting one million percent’

‘either theyre together or theyre idiots, because this just might be true love’

‘we can’t assume that every interaction in hollywood means something more than it is, give them the privacy they deserve!’

‘what are they SAYINGGGG?!!?!’ ↳ ‘it definitely looks like he said ‘prettiest girl in the world’ there at the end, right?? call me crazy, but i can see his mouth moving so clearly it has to be it!’ ↳ ‘you’re definitely crazy, but also you’re definitely right’ ↳ ‘you’re right!!!! isn't that so relationship goals??’

Towards the end of the carpet, the rest of the cast were gathered to take a group photo. Paul saw the two of you approaching and his eyes lit up. 

“Took your sweet time, didn’t you?” He teased the two of you. “Been waiting all night!”

“Sorry,” you ducked your head as you confessed, smiling sheepishly. “Entirely my fault. I came late.”

“Ah, come here.” Paul laughed as he brushed it off and pulled you into a hug. “You look stunning.”

“And you’re handsome as ever.” You returned the compliment.

Paul pulled Fred into his side once you withdrew. You saw him whisper something into Fred’s ear, and Fred laughed and whispered something back, but you couldn’t quite make any of it out. 

When Fred pulled away, you shook your head at him with furrowed brows and pursed lips. A small way of asking ‘What was that about?’ Fred smiled and shook his head, ‘Don’t worry about it.’

“Alright, you two!” Paul clapped his hands, breaking the moment. “Picture time!”

“Do I look okay?” You turned to Fred, hand coming up to make sure your hair was in place. You were facing him now, your colleagues to one side of you and the expanse of the carpet on the other side. 

“You always look perfect.” He answered, eyes struggling to stay on yours. Always dipping down to your neck, your shoulders, your waist. He had to get a hold of himself, he thought. 

As you raised your arm to make sure your earrings were on properly, one of your bracelets snagged at the neckline of your dress. Nothing had happened yet, but if you moved in the wrong way, you’d have a horrible wardrobe malfunction on your hands. A soft ‘Oh!’ escaped you as you realized what was happening. Fred’s eyes darted from yours to your hand, where your eyes were fixated on something.

“What happened?” He mumbled as he quickly moved you with his hands on your elbows and simultaneously stood in front of you, making sure the scene was as difficult as possible for the cameras to capture.

“My bracelet’s stuck,” you explained, eyebrows furrowed and eyes zoned in on the tangle. 

His hands quickly covered yours, gently moving your fingers out of the way. “Here, let me.”

You rolled your eyes with a laugh. “You’re like my own personal assistant today.”

“Yeah?” He asked with a small smile, still working on your bracelet, glad that you seemed to be enjoying yourself even now.

He was a bit worried about you today, especially after he initially saw you at the entrance to the carpet. He knew the high of working on this project was coming down for you and he wanted to be there to support you through it all. 

“Mhm,” you nodded, “first the train of my dress, now this. What next? You’re gonna pull out a powder puff and take care of the shine on my forehead?”

“If this suit had big enough pockets, I’d pull out a plane and fly us out of here.”

“Where would we go?” You laughed.

“I don’t know, the Maldives? Russia? The moon?” Fred laughed with you as he pulled your hand back down, your bracelet and your dress back to their previous intact positions.

“Well, I already told you two that I want to go take pictures.” Paul’s voice broke the bubble that seemed to continuously form around the two of you. He stood next to you and placed a hand on your and Fred’s shoulders. “Hate to ruin the moment, lovebirds, but there’s only so much time before the movie starts inside.”

Paul pushed the two of you towards the spot prepared for the photos. Ahead of you was the rest of the cast, all lined up. Pedro Pascal, Connie Neilsen, Joseph Quinn, and Denzel Washington all stood together chatting and laughing. Paul went and stood next to Pedro, and Joseph made room for Fred between him and Denzel. You slid up next to Paul, feeling like it was the best fit for you between the group of people without causing another shuffle. 

Paul scanned the lineup, eyes flicking between you and Fred when his eyes narrowed slightly. “This won’t do.”

Without another word, he began casually nudging people aside, muttering something to Pedro, giving Joseph a knowing look. Slowly but deliberately, he carved out a space beside Fred.

A space for you.

“There. Much better,” he smirked, stepping back to admire his handiwork. He placed a firm hand on your shoulder and pulled you into place.

Your cheeks burned as Fred grinned and tugged you closer into his side. Joseph smiled knowingly at you and draped an arm across your shoulders.

Paul darted back to his place and in turn the cameras flashing intensified.

‘paul fred and y/n seem like such good friends i could cry 😢’

‘we all know paul has tiktok and hes in the loop, this man knows exactly what hes doing to us fred x y/n shippers’

‘HIM FIXING HER DRESS LIKE THAT? TOMDAYA 2.0! THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT THE WORLD NEEDS 😩’

‘guys! a lip reader figured this one out! paul: ‘you’re smitten and you’re not being subtle about it’ and FRED SAID ‘who said i wanna be subtle?’ IS HE NOT THE CUTEST BOYFRIEND IN THE WHOLE ENTIRE WORLD?’ ↳‘paul ships it, he’s on our team’ ↳ ‘and he was telling her how good she looks at the other end of the carpet, did you see?’ ↳ ‘at one point he even says ‘you’re my love’ and i just about melted’ ↳ ‘no he said ‘lovie’! that’s what caracalla calls her in that one scene! NO SPOILERS GUYS!!!’

‘FRED THE MAN THAT YOU ARE!!!’

‘i can’t tell if i want y/n or if i want to be her’

‘paul making sure y/n is next to fred during the group photo’ ↳ ‘did you see how joseph looked at them!! everyone ships these two!’ ↳ ‘goes to show how literally everyone is rooting for these two’ ↳ ‘so true! they’re the cutest couple ive ever seen i feel like a proud mom’

‘first he fixes the train of her dress, next he helps her when her bracelet gets stuck, then what? huh? i die? is that what these two want from me?’

‘never getting over the cast making sure theyre next to each other in the group pic, theyre so loved’ ↳ ‘you mean paul specifically lol’

After a few pictures were snapped, a coordinator in charge of the media coverage told you to reshuffle. They wanted a few photos of Fred with Joseph and Denzel, and some of just the two of them. Some of Connie and Pedro, and some with Paul as well. A mixture of photos that represented their work together on screen. And of course they wanted some of you and Fred, and some with Joseph. And the last group on the list was you, Fred, and Paul.

When Paul came to join you, he placed his arm across Fred's on your lower back, both of their hands now landing on either side of your waist. “Hey,” He smiled warmly at you. “You alright?” 

You hummed in confirmation. “Thank you for that, back there.” You tilted your head to the side, knowing Paul would understand that you meant how he made sure to put you next to Fred in the group photo.

“I have no clue what you're talking about.” He smirked, eyes fixed forwards on the cameras. But his hand squeezing lightly at your waist told you otherwise. He was so perceptive when it came to you, making you feel like you were an open book. It brought you back to a day on set. A long time ago. When the concept of you and Fred was something you were too afraid to talk about out loud in fear of ruining the magic of it. Your relationship was on the precipice, the very edge of friendship before the ocean of something more.

The day, you had confided in Paul about the very thing that led him to do what he did only moments ago.

~

“You guys are cute.” He had said, catching you admiring your lock screen. It was a picture of you and Fred on a picnic blanket. Paul had taken it the day before. Everyone on set thought it was a nice idea to have lunch outside. The weather was perfect, the grass was green, and there were butterflies everywhere. You and Fred took a blanket for yourselves, to no one’s surprise. 

It was the next day that you were sitting with Paul on the set of the Colosseum and he showed you the picture he took of you. You quickly changed your phone wallpaper after he sent you the photo at your request. It wasn’t anything fancy, his film was still getting developed, though he promised you loads of pictures from that once it was done. This picture was just taken on his phone camera, but it was just as beautiful to you. He was so talented with cameras, capturing each moment beautifully you could almost hear it.

“Thanks.” You replied, avoiding his eyes. It felt strange—this fragile stage of something new unfolding under so many watchful eyes. But you knew that would be a sacrifice that you’d have to make. Especially with how slow you were going with Fred.

“Does it make you uncomfortable?” Paul asked. You hummed in response, asking for elaboration. “Us watching?”

“What do you mean?” You asked, needing further explanation. He couldn’t read your mind, could he? Was he really asking about the same thing you were thinking of? Were you that easy to read? Maybe to Paul, you were.

“I know you guys are taking it slow,” Paul said softly, like it was a secret he wasn’t supposed to know. Your eyes lifted to meet his. “Fred told me.”

“He talks to you about me?” You asked, your smile evident in the tone of your voice.

“Always.” He replied, smiling just as wide as you unknowingly were. You and Fred were some of his closest friends on set. You all had the same sense of humor and attitude towards life, it was easy to find companionship with the two of you. And he wasn’t surprised that you two found love within each other. But he worried about it at times. “He always talks about you.”

“All good things, I hope.” You chuckled quietly, the smile ever growing on your face as you thought of what Fred might tell Paul in your absence. Maybe he mentioned your weird obsession with stuffed animals, or how you clung to his arm whenever the two of you went for a walk.

After a beat of silence, you remembered his question and your brows knitted in thought. “Why would it make me uncomfortable?”

Paul inhaled through his nose and looked out onto the bleachers ahead of you. “I don’t know… It’s just that- I don’t think I would be comfortable in your position, is all.”

“Why is that?” You knew how you felt about it all, but you always explained away your emotions. A bad habit, you knew. But you were genuinely curious and wanted to hear a somewhat objective opinion on this whole situation. 

“Just feels so-” He looked back at you now, studying you. Hoping, even, to see something telling in your expression at his confession. “Exposed, in a way. Raw. Like these feelings that really only one person should know about are on display to everyone around me.”

“Says the guy who had a first date on a live stream.” You retorted, the playful jab coming quick to mind.

Paul shook his head with a chuckle. “You know what I mean, dickhead.”

Your head cocked to the side as you thought of his words, truly taking them in. “I guess it does kind of make me feel strange.”

“Yeah?” Paul’s brows raised, appraising your face once more.

You nodded with a hum. “I’ve never- I mean, I’ve never really had a proper relationship. I don’t think I can even call this one a proper relationship. Not yet, anyways. And when I really think of it, it does feel a little unfair that what I always thought would be intimate and private is on display like this.”

“I’m sorry.” Paul spoke morosely.

“It’s not your fault.” You smiled softly, placing your hand on his. 

“Feels like it is sometimes.” He admitted. You shot him a questioning look. “‘Cause of the pictures.” He explained. “I just want to capture the moment. For you guys, not for anyone else. But whenever I point a camera your way, it’s like I’m pulling everyone’s attention to you with it. I feel guilty whenever you two are having a moment and everyone’s staring. You’re not doing anything wrong.”

“I think we’re asking for it a little.” You huffed out a laugh, squinting in the sun. The underlying bitterness in your voice didn’t go unnoticed by Paul. “It’s a bit dumb to try and start a relationship in an environment like this. Months on end on one set with the same group of people. It’s annoying to have everyone’s attention like that, but everyone else probably thinks we’re annoying too.”

“No, don’t say that.” Paul shook his head, his eyes sharp as he shot down your self-blame. “You don’t plan out relationships in advance, that’s not how things work. We’re not like normal people, we don’t get to clock out and go home when time’s up. We’ve moved to fuckin’ Malta, we film day and night. We eat, sleep, and breathe on this set. And if something like that does happen, where would you even hide it? You can’t! Not that well anyways… You guys are doing this well. Better than most.”

“You think?”

“Yeah, I do.” He nodded with certainty. “And I… I didn’t know this was your first relationship. I’m sorry. It’s not fair to you.” He apologized again and your heart squeezed. 

“Yeah.” Your lips pressed together in a combination of agreement and embarrassment. “But it’s okay. To answer your question, I mean. I don’t think- I don’t feel uncomfortable.”

“No?”

“No.” You shook your head. “He makes me feel safe—like I’m home. Like we’re in a bubble where nothing bad can happen.”

~

Tucked into Fred’s side, surrounded by the cameras and the noise of the final premiere, you felt that same comfort—like you were in your own bubble with him. There were still interviews, panels, and endless appearances ahead, but this moment felt like the end of something special. And you were grateful that Fred was here, anchoring you through it all.

next part>>

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

hope you feel better soon!

I am riddled with ailments, but I stay silly!

[artfulacrostic]

okay, do you want to know too much about st. yves, aka the guy in the litany that appears via matt's narration twice in ddba ep 6? well me and my childhood catholic education are here for you, but let me just say they hit the nail on the head with that one.

first of all: st. yves is the catholic patron saint of lawyers and the law in general (barristers, solicitors, jurists, etc). he was basically well known for fairly upholding the standards of the law, including refusing to accept bribes after he eventually became the middle ages version of a judge, and his big thing was all about helping and protecting the poor and the oppressed, especially widows and children. he was so into charity that he is usually shown with a bag of money to give away in one hand and the symbol of the law/judges in the other (some kind of scroll), or shown as mediating between a rich man and a poor man.

it's super clear to me and probably also you by this point why st. yves is a saint that matt would feel a particular connection with. it's a no brainer. the actual prayer he is praying is a snippet from the end of the litany of st. yves. a litany, in case you're wondering, is a kind of prayer usually formatted as a petition, and there are (i think, don't fail me now brain) five that are actually approved as public litanies that can be prayed at mass, while there are a bunch of other private litanies that you might do on your own or at home, with a bit less emphasis on the call and response format that is so big on the public ones like the litany of the saints.

a litany like the litany of st. yves is usually designed to call for that particular saint's intercession, aka to get them to put in a good word for you to god, since they are basically in the top tier of souls who are in good standing up in heaven. so while the saint themself can't do much, they can be like "yo i think my man matt could use some mojo would you mind giving that a look please?" and god is more likely to bestow some grace upon the person and their prayer intentions.

what's fascinating about the litany of st. yves is that in using it to pray for st. yves' intercession and help with the things that are being listed in the petition, matt isn't just asking for justice (although he is). the section he prays onscreen: "O God, from whom cometh all that is right and just, Thou didst establish Saint Yves as a judge in the midst of his brethren, making him the friend and advocate of the poor. Do Thou make us, by his intercession, steadfast in the pursuit of justice and confident in Thy merciful goodness. Through Christ our Lord. Amen."

great, easy to see why matt relates to the desire to be a friend and advocate to the poor, why he wants to be made steadfast in the pursuit of justice, and why he wants to renew his confidence in god's mercy and goodness. great. nice and clear.

but.

if you're a big daredevil person, you know matt's faith and his willingness to go beat the shit out of evil people in the dead of night are deeply intertwined.

included in the actual petition portion of the litany of st. yves:

"Saint-Yves, devoted to penitence, pray for us."

gee, i wonder what matt feels guilty about that he feels the need to repent for.

"Saint Yves, friend of young people, pray for us. Saint Yves, companion of adolescents, pray for us."

gee, i wonder who the main focus of the episode is on matt saving. (angela.) gee, i wonder which demographic he caves for every time, and does what maybe he shouldn't, from the child he saved from the abusive father because he couldn't bear to listen anymore, to the boy who was kidnapped by the russians, who matt went after even though he knew it was a trap that they were using to try and kill him. (kids.)

"Saint Yves, helper of all who invoke thee, pray for us."

gee, i wonder who came to matt to ask for help, help that he was struggling to give via the system.

"Saint Yves, bright light among men of law, pray for us."

gee, i wonder why matt is struggling to find guidance on what he should do, when doing what he knows foggy would have wanted has been his guiding light—except it's been getting harder and harder to see that the system works at all.

"Saint Yves, terror of demons, pray for us."

gee. i wonder who might be feeling the urge to put some righteous terror back into the hearts of evil-doers.

and those are just the most immediately relevant lines. so maybe they just googled the patron saint of lawyers and jumped on that bandwagon. but maybe matt's looking for intercession for all those things and more. because of course we know that he prays more and more when he starts to let the devil out.

[solplease]

meet cassian :]

close ups and more info under the cut!

gloomiest guy you’ll ever meet

pathetic loser

he’s an artist 

comes from a rich family

he barely leaves his house, he stays inside a LOOOOOT

insane attachment issues

clingy and dependant yandere

he guilt trips a lot (isn’t really aware of it lmao) can be really manipulative without trying unfortunately

texts you constantly but if you don’t answer back in like 5 minutes he starts freaking out 

sometimes he’s normal enough but if you take too long he WILL lose it

doesn't like it when you talk to other people, why can't you just talk to him? is he not good enough for you? what's so interesting about other people anyway?

he hates stairs (he's fallen down and up the stairs WAYYY too many times)

shy (lmao ok) and introverted (has a really hard time talking to people)

has a mascot! (his name is PopUp :] he made him for a school project and just ended up liking him a lot lol)

sopping wet cat

don’t be mean to him, he doesn’t like it, even as a joke

doesn’t get much social interaction cause he stays inside a lot

WAYYYY more comfortable texting, he’s like a totally different person when you’re texting him

spams a lot. like a lot

used to be a lot more outgoing and social

wishes you could be by his side 24/7

he’s sad a lot of the time

feels unloved, please shower him in love

really pessimistic when it comes to himself

he’s really passionate about art

you and art are the two things that make him extremely happy

if you thought nox was tired, meet cassian! he has an even worse sleeping schedule than nox

he’ll do ANYTHING to keep you by his side

so he can and will kidnap you! lol!

is also a stalker… great..!

has probably installed a camera somewhere in your room (um??)

you’re probably one of the only people that can convince him to leave his room

really loves shoujo manga, has fantasized about being the perfect male lead for you (he really wants a romance like that, only with you) 

he's a huge romantic, he wants the two of you to have a happy life together

so please don’t leave him. please

takes a lot of walks at night, don’t worry he doesn’t spend ALL of his time inside (he wishes he could tho.)

he wants to have his happy ending with you <3

[kamitsure-cykes]

funfact 🌻 forced me to draw this at gunpoint /j

bestie's comfort ship :3

without overlay versionnnn

they r peak "right person, wrong time" trope and make me so sick TwT

-🌦️

[taradactyls]

So I could be totally wrong but, I believe it was sort of expected that men/gentlemen lose their virginity before marriage in regency times. But I also there’s some fandom ‘debate’ about whether or not Mr Darcy would’ve had sex before getting married. So I was just curious about what your canon for Mr Darcy in T3W is. Is he a virgin or not?

I knew someone would ask me this eventually, haha. I've actually had really long conversations with my beta reader about this trying to figure it out. It sounds like this might all be stuff that you’ve already seen discussed in the fandom, but I’ve never thought about it deeply before and so these are new thoughts to me.

I keep going over the historical real-world likelihood, the authorial intent, and the text itself but I’m still not 100%. I’ll explain my thinking and what I find most likely, but here’s your warning that it’s not a clear cut yes/no.

Because on one hand, at that time period it was most common for men in his position to have seen sex workers or have casual encounters/mistresses with women from their estates. Though I do absolutely believe not all men did that, no matter how much wealth and power they had. To go back some centuries, William the Conqueror seemed to be famously celibate (no hints of male lovers either according to the biography I read) until his marriage, and there's no evidence of affairs after it either. The best guesses as to why are that it was due to his religious devotion and the problems that had arisen from himself being a bastard and not wanting to recreate that situation. Concerns over religion and illegitimate children would certainly still have been applicable in the regency to men who thought that way. And in modern times I've seen sex workers say that when an 18/21yo is booked in by his family/friends to 'become a man' often they end up just talking and agree to lie about the encounter. After all, it’s not like every man wants casual sex, even if they aren’t demisexual or something in that vein. But, statistically speaking, the precedent of regency gentlemen would make Darcy not a virgin.

On the other hand, just how aware was Jane Austen, the very religious daughter of a country rector, of the commonness of this? There’s a huge difference between knowing affairs and sex workers existed (and no one who had seen a Georgian newspaper could be blind to this) and realising that the majority of wealthy men saw sex workers at some point even if they condemned the more public and profligate affairs. The literature for young ladies at the time paints extramarital sex - including the lust of men outside of marriage - as pretty universally bad and dangerous. This message is seen from 'Pamela' and other gothic fiction to non-fiction conduct books which Jane Austen would have encountered. Here's something I found in 'Letters to a Young Lady' by the reverend John Bennett which I found particularly interesting as it's in direct conversation with other opinions of the era:

"A reformed rake makes the best husband." Does he? It would be very extraordinary, if he should. Besides, are you very certain, that you have power to reform him? It is a matter, that requires some deliberation. This reformation, if it is to be accomplished, must take place before marriage. Then if ever, is the period of your power. But how will you be assured that he is reformed? If he appears so, is he not insidiously concealing his vices, to gain your affections? And when he knows, they are secured, may he not, gradually, throw off the mask, and be dissipated, as before? Profligacy of this kind is seldom eradicated. It resembles some cutaneous disorders, which appear to be healed, and yet are, continually, making themselves visible by fresh eruptions. A man, who has carried on a criminal intercourse with immoral women is not to be trusted, His opinion of all females is an insult to their delicacy. His attachment is to sex alone, under particular modifications.

The definition of a rake is more than a man who has seen a sex worker once, it's about appearance and general conduct too, but again, would that distinction be made to young ladies? Because they seem to simply be continuously taught 'lust when unmarried is bad and beware men who you know engage in extramarital sex.' As a side note, Jane Austen certainly knew at least something about the mechanics of sex: her letters and literature she read alludes to it, and she grew up around farm animals in the countryside which is an education in itself.

We can also see from this exert that the school of thought seems to be 'reformed rake' vs 'never a rake' in contention for the title of best husband, there's no debate over whether a current rake is unsuitable for a young lady. And, from Willoughby to Wickham to Crawford, I think we have a very clear idea of Jane Austen's ideas of how likely it is notably promiscuous men can reform. This does not preclude the possibility that her disparaging commentary around their lust is based more on over-indulgence or the class of women they seduce, but it's undoubtedly a condemnation of such men directly in line with the first part of what John Bennett says so it's no stretch to believe she saw merit in the follow-on conclusions of the second part as well. Whether she would view it with enough merit to consider celibacy the only respectable option for unmarried men is a bit unclearer.

I did consider that perhaps Jane Austen consciously treated this as a grey area where she couldn’t possibly know what young men did (the same reasoning is why we never see the men in the dining room after the ladies retire, etc) and so didn't hold an opinion on men's extramarital encounters with sex workers/lower-class women at all, but I think there actually are enough hints in her works that this isn’t the case. Though, unsurprisingly, given the delicacy of the subject, there’s no direct mention of sex workers or gentlemen having casual lovers from among the lower-classes in her texts.

That also prevents us from definitively knowing whether she thought extramarital sex was so common, and as unremarkable, as most gentlemen treated it. But we do see from her commentary around the consequences of Maria Bertram and Henry Crawford's elopement that she had criticism of the double standards men and women were held to when violating sexual virtue. Another indication that she perhaps expected good men to be capable of waiting until marriage in the way that she very clearly believed women should. At the very least, a man who often indulges in extramarital sex does not seem to be one who would be considered highly by Jane Austen.

She makes a point of saying, in regards to not liking his wife, that Mr Bennet “was not of a disposition to seek comfort for the disappointment which his own imprudence had brought on, in any of those pleasures which too often console the unfortunate for their folly or their vice.” This must include affairs, though cheating on a wife cannot be a 1:1 equivalent of single young men sleeping around before marriage. However, the latter is generally critically accepted to be one of the flaws that Darcy lays at Wickham’s door along with gambling when talking about their youth and his “vicious propensities" and "want of principle." Though this could be argued that it’s more the extent or publicity of it (but remembering that it couldn't be anything uncommon enough that it couldn't be hidden from Darcy Sr. or explained away) rather than the act itself, or maybe seductions instead of paying women offering those services. I also believe Persuasion mentioning Sunday travelling as proof of thoughtless/immoral activity supports the idea that Jane Austen might have been religious enough that she would never create a hero who had extramarital sex.

So, taken all together this would make Darcy potentially a virgin, or, since I couldn't find absolute evidence of her opinions, leave enough room that he isn’t but extramarital sex isn’t a regular (or perhaps recent) thing and he would never have had anything so established as a mistress.

I’ve also been wondering, if Darcy isn’t a virgin, who would he have slept with? I’ve been musing on arguments for and against each option for weeks at this point. No romantasy has ever made me think about a fictional man's sexual habits so much as the question of Darcy's sexual history. What is my life.

Sex workers are an obvious answer, and the visits wouldn’t have raised any eyebrows. Discretion was part of their job, it was a clean transaction with no further responsibilities towards them, and effective (and reusable, ew) condoms existed at this time so there was little risk of children and no ability to exactly determine the paternity even if there was an accident. It was a fairly ‘responsible’ choice if one wanted no strings attached. In opposition to this, syphilis was rampant at the time, and had been known to spread sexually for centuries. Sex workers were at greater risk of it than anyone else and so the more sensible and risk-averse someone is (and I think Mr Darcy would be careful) the less likely they would be to visit sex workers. Contracting something that was known as potentially deadly and capable of making a future wife infertile if it spread to her could make any intelligent and cautious man think twice.

Servants and tenants of the estate are another simple and common answer. Less risk of stds, it can be based on actual attraction more than money (though money might still change hands), and is a bit more intimate. But Wickham’s called wicked for something very similar, when he dallies (whether he only got to serious flirting, kissing, or sleeping with them I don’t think we can conclusively say) with the common women of Meryton: “his intrigues, all honoured with the title of seduction, had been extended into every tradesman's family.” And it isn't as though Wickham had any personal duty towards those people beyond the claims of basic dignity. Darcy, who is shown to have such respect and understanding for his responsibilities towards the people of his estate and duties of a landlord, would keenly feel if any of his actions were leading his servants/tenants astray and down immoral paths. Servants, especially, were considered directly under the protection of the family whose house they worked in. I think it's undoubtable that Mrs Reynolds (whose was responsible for the wellbeing - both physically and spiritually - of the female servants) would not think so well of Mr Darcy if he had experimented with maids in his youth. It would reflect badly on her if a family entrusted their daughter to her care and she 'lost her virtue' under her watch. Daughters/widows of others living on the estate not under the roof of Pemberley House are a little more likely, but still, if he did have an affair with any of them I can only think it possible when he was much younger and did not feel his duties quite so strongly. Of course lots of real men didn't care about any of this, but Darcy is so far from being depicted as careless about his duties that the narrative makes a point of how exceptional his quality of care was. Frankly, it's undeniable that none of Jane Austen's heroes were flippant about their responsibilities towards those under their protection. I cannot serious entertain an interpretation that makes Darcy not, at his current age, at least, cognizant of the contemporary problems inherent in sleeping with servants or others on his estate.

A servant in a friend’s house would remove some of that personal responsibility, but transfer it to instead be leading his friend’s servants astray and in a manner which he is less able to know about if a child did result. That latter remains a problem even if we move the setting to his college, so not particularly likely for his character as we know it… though it wouldn’t be unusual for someone to be more unthinking and reckless in their teenage years than they are at twenty-eight so I don’t think having sex then can be ruled out. Kissing I can much more easily believe, especially when at Oxford or Cambridge, but every scenario of sleeping with a lower-class woman has some compelling arguments against it especially the closer we get to the time of the novel.

Men did of course also have affairs with women of ranks similar to their own, though given Jane Austen’s well-known feelings towards men who ‘ruined’ the virtue of young ladies we can safely say that Darcy never slept with an unwed middle- or upper-class woman. Any decent man would have married them out of duty if it got so far; but if he was the sort to let it get so far, I think it impossible Jane Austen would consider him respectable. Widows are a possibility, but again, the respectable thing to do would be to marry them. Perhaps a poorer merchant’s widow would be low enough that marriage is off the table but high enough that the ‘leading astray’ aspect loses its master-servant responsibilities (though the male-female ‘protect the gentler sex’ aspect remains) but his social circle didn’t facilitate meeting many ladies like that. Plus, an affair with a woman in society would remove many layers of privacy and anonymity that sex-workers and lower-class lovers provided by simply being unremarkable to the world at large. It carries a far greater risk of scandal and a heavier sense of immorality in the terms of respecting a woman’s purity which classism prevented from applying so heavily to lower-class women.

I think it’s important to note here that something that removes the need to think about duties of landlords towards the lower-classes or gentlemen towards gentlewomen is having affairs with other men of a similar rank. But, aside from the risk of scandal and what could be called the irresponsibility of engaging in illegal acts, it’s almost certain that Jane Austen would never have supported this. For a devout author in this era the way I’m calculating likelihoods makes it not even a possibility. But if you want to write a different fanfiction (and perhaps something like a break-up could explain why Darcy doesn’t seem to have any closer friend than someone whom he must have only met two or so years ago despite being in society for years before that) it does have that advantage over affairs with women of equal- and lower-classes. I support alternate interpretations entirely – it just isn’t how I’m deciding things in this instance.

I keep coming back to the conclusion that, at the very least, Darcy hasn’t had sex recently and it was never a common occurrence. It wouldn’t surprise me if Jane Austen felt he hadn’t done it ever. Kissing, as we can see from all the parlour games at the time, wasn’t viewed as harshly, so I think he’s likely made out with someone before. But in almost every situation it does seem that the responsible and religious thing to do (which Jane Austen values so highly) is for it to never have progressed to sex. I also don’t think it conflicts with his canon characterisation to say that he wouldn’t regard sexual experience as a crucial element of his life thus far, and his personality isn’t driven to pursue pleasure for himself, so it’s entirely possible that he would never go out of his way to seek it. So, I’m inclined to think that the authorial and textual evidence is in favour of Darcy being a virgin even if the real-world contemporary standard is the opposite. (Though both leave enough room for exceptions that I’m not going to argue with anyone who feels differently; and even if you agree with all my points, you might simply weight authorial intent/textual evidence/contemporary likelihoods differently than I do and come to a different conclusion).

Remember that even if Darcy is a virgin this wouldn’t necessarily equate to lack of knowledge, only experience. There were plenty of books and artwork focused on sex, and Darcy, studious man that he is, would no doubt pay attention to what knowledge his friends/male relatives shared. Though some of it (Looking especially at you, 'Fanny Hill, Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure') should NEVER be an example of appropriate practice for taking a woman's virginity. Darcy would almost certainly have been taught directly or learnt through exposure to other men talking to make sex good for a woman – it was a commonly held misconception (since Elizabethan England, I believe) that women had to orgasm to conceive. It would be in his interests as an empathetic husband, and head of a family, to know how to please his wife.

Basically, I’m convinced Darcy isn’t very experienced, if at all, and will be learning with Elizabeth. But he does have a lot of theoretical knowledge which he’s paid careful attention to and is eager to apply.

[canon-gabriel-quotes]

I always respect your rule about suggestive posts, and I am 100% on board with it.

However please keep in mind that at least on mobile if there are many tags on a post some of these will be hidden! And some people might not notice the tag! Even I sometimes caught myself almost liking/reblogging something because I zoned out and didn't notice (I'm also a dummy and might not register that something is suggestive, especially that english isn't my first language.) When tagging questionable posts, please put the #suggestive tag first. Or not, I'm not gonna order you how to tag your posts, but please concider.

Thank you for reading and have a good weekend!

Sincerely, a 16yo ULTRAKILL fan

I’ll try to remember to put that tag at the front. I schedule all the posts when I’m at work so I’m usually more preoccupied with making sure no one is standing behind me while I’m doing that so the tags are an afterthought. But like I said I’ll try to fix that for future posts.

But anyway I reblogged that warning cause I had to block 2 accounts that followed and blatantly said they were 14. Meaning they couldn’t bother to read the short af blog description I have there. It’s right there as soon as you open the account. I can’t make it any more obvious. And I know they scrolled through the account because they were liking old posts that were tagged as well. They didn’t just follow from their dashboard. Not slick.

Like. Come on. I too was on tumblr from the age of 13 but I had the common sense to not do that. Stay out of trouble. Don’t cross people’s boundaries. 10 years from now you’ll realize how uncomfortable it’d be to have a 14 year old thirst posting in your replies.

If you’re going to do it anyway. Do that in your private discord or whatever with your friends that are (hopefully) around your age, I can’t stop you. But doing it out in the open with 0 respect is an auto block from me. Not only because it’s weird, but it opens themselves up to being creeped on.

[beepboopappreciation]

Say hello to ELM-3R. Quite the darling Luminoscope, is he not? 💙

[langdonss]

MEDIA: ❛ AMERICAN HORROR STORY ❜

THEMES: Evil government, abduction, corruption

The moon stares down upon you, bright and eerie, piercing through your window in all its fullness. The slight red tint of it casts a shadow on your tired face that is smooshed into your pillow. You’re off somewhere else, lost in a deep deep sleep whilst your body has sunken into the bedding, completely unaware of what’s about to happen to you… Your foot glides softly across the cool sheets of your bed, the perspiration causing messy hair to stick to your forehead in the humid summer night air.

The floors creak in the dead of night amongst the crickets chirping near your window, their singing coming to an unnatural halt which make the air feel… Eerily still…. The wall goes bump, another floor board creaks and then there’s nothing… Until, your bedroom door slowly sways open, not making a single sound.

Suddenly, two sets of arms lunge toward where you lay asleep in your bed, quickly and securely grabbing your body. You jolt upwards, your eyes snapping open in a panicked haze. Not a word is uttered, but your screams pierce through the entire house like a banshee and not a single grunt is forced from either man dressed in black while they effortlessly take control and hold of you, picking you up from your mattress. Something swiftly swoops down over your head faster than you can comprehend, and their hands work fast to tie your struggling arms into tight ropes before carrying you off from the confines of your room through the halls, their boots stomping.

❝ You're only making this more difficult for yourself. ❞

A mans deep voice speaks out as you yell and struggle, a hand clamps over your shrieking mouth firmly shutting you up. Every kick and flail is counteracted by an iron grip that makes your fighting limbs go limp.

You muffle through the fabric, but no answer is given. Instead, you're thrown against a cushioned surface, and the sound of a large car door slides shut, the sound pounding in your ears whilst the earth shifts from under you quicker than you can stomach, your body sliding against the seating as the vehicle takes off. Your pulse is pumping faster than it ever has in your entire life that you’d swear your heart could explode and give out any second now. A million thoughts race in your mind of what is happening, are you being kidnapped? Trafficked? You don’t want to find out. You scream again, your plea falling on uncaring ears. The silence eats away at you, it’s so fucking quiet in the cloth bag that’s wrapped over your head, each and every bump and creak sounds so far off in the distance, and the air is constricted just enough so you can still at least breathe. The drive to wherever the men are taking you seems to last forever, and eventually you give up, all the squirming and calling out for answers gets you absolutely no where. You lay there on your side, you can’t imagine how pathetic you look all curled up back there, a bag over your head, your arms tied at your front. Tears have stained your face to the point it’s burning your cheeks and the insides of your confinement is annoyingly moist. How much crying can you do before you run all out and dehydrate yourself?

❝ We’re heading near the base, prepare the gates. ❞ One of the mens voice calls out in the dead silence, causing you to snap out of your depressed dissociation and become alert.

The vehicle enters on a gravel path, slowing its speed as it approaches toward a giant gate in the middle of nowhere. A man, Mr. Langdon, awaits your arrival at the other side of the gates as it swings open at a snails pace. The men take the drive further up ahead and the gate closes behind them, before they jump out from their seats to walk around to either side of the car to fetch you.

The doors are forced open, and you hear another persons foot steps approaching in the gravel of the driveway.

❝ I see you’ve gathered her in one piece. Your handiwork is much appreciated. ❞

A new voice speaks out in a smooth and almost elegant tone. You stay still and silent, but your breathing hitches with anxiety at the nonexistent context of what’s going on or where you’ve been taken to. The men grab your body up, dragging you from the back seat and propping you on your feet before you begin to scream and throw your legs out just as you did earlier.

❝ She’s not going to cooperate. ❞

Mr. Langdon remarks snidely. You can hear the amusement in his voice as he watches the men pick you up and throw you over their shoulder. They begin walking off, and your body is moved back and forth with each step they take as they hold you down with a strength that is unmatched.

You sob, feeling the man carrying you come to a halt while he waits for the other to follow, his hand quickly retrieving into his pocket for a key card, sliding it into the lock of the door before where they stand. A mechanical swoosh and a beep fill the air, followed by a loud sound of something opening before they resume their walk down a dimly lit corridor of a facility.

Their stomping boots echo off the black walls, and his hand tightens on your back side. Quicker than you can understand, something sharp jabs into your upper arm, the surroundings begin to blur all into one.

You’re almost at your destination…

…. Brightness envelops your surroundings in a quick flash, your eyes close shut tightly to block out this new harsh lighting, turning your head to look away as a groan escapes your lips. A deep breath fills your nostrils, you can breathe, you can see. You thought the time would never come. But you fail to recognize where the hell you are, and your half concentration is disrupted by the sound of heavy boots approaching against the cold floor of the dim and chilling room.

Clack.. clack… clack..

A tall, and brooding figure steps from the confines of the corner of what you can only guess is some sort of government facility. His jawline, sharp, protrudes with amusement at the distressed little sight of you where you sit, still tied in place. You squint, looking around. Your wrists burn in the ropes that hold you back.

❝ You put up quite the fuss earlier…. I’m not sure that warrants you insight on the situation at hand. ❞ Mr Langdon teases, his voice deep and mocking. He steps closer, the flourescent lights up above flicker down upon his features; Sneering lips, golden blonde hair that curls perfectly around his ears, icy hues that stare into your soul.

A gloved hand delicately reaches out down toward you, the mahogany leather on his fingers shining in the light. ❝ Poor thing, bound and tied with no idea what’s to come…❞

You interject as best you can, the effects of the injection from earlier still barring its toll on you. Lips move slowly and your words come out in a slur.

❝ What… what is this… place…? What do you want? ❞

The man only stares at you with a widening smirk, taking a moment to carefully articulate his answer in a way you will understand best.

❝ Our exact motivations are none of your concern, for now. The only concern you should have is your future here, with us. What you can give the Cooperative. ❞

You swallow a knot in your throat. Nothing could prepare you for what was coming…

[influcorp]

"helloooo gra—"

"GREEEN !!! WHAT ARE YOU DOINGGG ?!"

"uh....UH NOTHING, RED !!" "great....am i going to have to restart this whole thing AGAIN...ugh, thanks alot red."

"DOESNT SOUND LIKE NOTHING !! JUST HURRY UPPPP you SLOWPOKE !!—" "ooookay so no time to restart i guess...uh.....welllll they dont know im doing this....again.....yep, again." "—ME AND BLUE ARE TRYING TO FIND A WAY IN THIS BIG 'OL BUILDINGG !!! WE CANT DO MUCH WITHOUT YOUUUUU !!!"

"but....im only documenting this incase we get captured like yel just did.....so theres word of where we are incase that happens...." "UGHHHHHH !!!! GREEEEENNNNN !!! IM GONNA START CALLING YOU GRASS BOY IF YOU DONT HURRY UUUUUPP !!!" ".....no other reason.....i dont miss social media attention at all....nooooope.....!!" "GRASS BOYYY—"

"—IM GOING TO FIND A SILVERFISH IN THIS GRASS JUUUUST FOR YOU IF YOU DONT GET OVER HERE AND ACTUALLY HELPPPP !!!"

"HEYHEYHEY— YOUR CRUEL FOR THAT !!! ughhhhh, FINEEE !! FINEE IM CATCHING UP WITH YOU NOWWWW !!!!"

"uhhh oookay i gotta goooo catch up nowww !!!! ask me stuff ?? please ?? byeee !!!"

[thedeadthree]

-ˋˏ .·:·. ⊱ 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐕𝐄𝐈𝐋𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐛𝐲 @pavus — day one: 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞.

— 𝐈𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐕𝐀𝐑 . 𝐕𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐈 𝐃𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐀 . 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐀 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐄.

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐃𝐀𝐒. 𝐄𝐍𝐉𝐎𝐘 𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐓 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐒.

— 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 (mutuals can opt in/out via 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 <3):

@loriane-elmuerto, @carrionsflower, @auricfog, @girliefailure, @sunsofdawn

@risingsh0t, @griffin-wood, @lilywatt, @full---ofstarlight, @grapecaseschoices

@tommyarashikage, @shadowsofrose, @shadowglens, @weisshaupts, @queennymeria

@deadrlngers, @d-esmond, @courtana, @gothimp, @wlwaerith

@unholymilf, @aezyrraeshh, @socially-awkward-skeleton, @shellibisshe, @florbelles

@celticwoman, @neonshrike, @cloudofbutterflies92, @adelaidedrubman, @carlosoliveiraa

@pinkfey, @spookyrares, @yharnams, @aceghosts, @confidentandgood

@theelderhazelnut, @leviiackrman, @ellierenae, @anoras, @lavampira

@dialdrunk, @full---ofstarlight, @imogenkol

[dogboots]

boyfriend full of facts

[fatherphaniel]

how has it only been 2 weeks since the first tit show, i feel like i've lived 10 lifetimes

[shoyostar]

original pinned

[ ARCHIVING! ]

hi hii so,,, after a lot of thought and contemplating i think it’d be best for me to archive this blog </3

i came to tumblr nearly a year ago and it’s been fun but now i’m drained + uninspired, n i js have so much stress n negative emotions associated w this blog that now its time to leave and maybe start anew ?

who knows! :>

i’ve gone back and forth with if i should delete my works here or not bcs ik lots of people love them but they’ve js been a constant bad reminder to me and i’m not proud of most of them anymore :<< but as of rn i’ll be leaving them + this blog up!!

(may change in the future but i’m scared of the deact button LOL)

js kinda being on here stresses me out and its no longer fun so i hope that by doing this i can have some peace + you still get to read my old stuff :3

i started this blog js before my first year of uni and i never expected to stay this long on tumblr honestly,, like i was js gonna post a bit for fun n delete my acc LOL but i’m vv thankful for the almost 2k of you who stuck around and enjoyed my writing ^_^

youre all vv sweet n i wish i couldve provided more writing on here for yall to read before archiving this blog TvT i feel like i have nothing here honestly LOL

if my blog does deact, i may repost my fics on my new blog but for now i js wanna be lwk on here and not have to worry abt updating so many series at the same time (so sorry to all dfh, vbs, loveholic ++ all other fans of my ongoing series :<< the stress to write and update is too much for me to handle 😞)

please take care of yourselves and i hope to catch you again someday if you find me !! :3

bye bye!

[stealingyourbones]

Gotta love when folks write Superman incredibly anti-clone even though he had good reason in the beginning to Not Like Superboy (HES A WINDOW INTO WHAT CLARK WOULD HAVE BEEN WITHOUT THE KENTS) and decide that forever on he’ll be spiteful towards clones even though he literally Does Not Care if you’re a clone unless you’re Superboy.