#So this is old fic I guess?

[trashogram]

Charlie Kills Valentino One-Shot

Warning: Rated M for Mature. Descriptions of graphic violence, dismemberment, blood, the insanity of staring evil in the face, etc., OOC Charlie (I guess 😒)

Charlie grimaced as she brushed ash from her pants. Valentino’s bluster had thrown a surprising amount of debris in her direction. She couldn’t help but think, somewhere in the very back of her brain, that that had been on purpose.

Then again, she was still mortified by the electrical fire she’d set accidentally, so perhaps she couldn’t fault Valentino for that. 

Still, Charlie looked around the remains of the set, at the cast and crew that had not yet left post-disruption. The lot of them were huddled in the furthest corners of the room, or loitering away from the damage… and from the door that Angel Dust and Valentino had disappeared into.

It made the princess pause, to see some of these demons, even ones that towered over her in black latex and leather masks, trembling about the shoulders and hands. Not the most obvious thing, but Charlie’s enhanced sight could pick out the inconsistencies. 

With black lips pursed, Charlie sidled up to the demon who’d not yet withdrawn his boom mic. “Does this happen a lot?”

“What you mean? Do bitches come in here and burn down the place all the time?” Beady eyes glared at her as the horned devil gave her a sharp smirk. “Nuh-uh, just you.” 

A flare up of guilt and indignance caught up with Charlie’s already rosy cheeks, and she tried not to pout. 

“No, no, I mean -” Charlie took a breath. “I mean does Mr. Valentino frighten you all the time?”

Her counterpart’s eyes popped open wide as her simple question seemed to completely catch him off-guard. It was answer enough, and Charlie felt the pit in her stomach grow as the mic guy’s gaze turned shifty. 

“I dunno what you’re talkin’ about lady.” He was shuffling away from her now, trying to put as much distance between them as he could. 

Charlie swallowed past the growing lump in her throat, before turning to the dressing room door at a loud crash. 

The sound of clattering glass and snapping wood brought Hell’s princess forward until she was right in front of the door. Heart racing, she listened as something reasonably heavy was yanked through the space and slammed into furniture. 

“- think she can get you out of work?” Valentino asked amidst the sound of gagging and gurgling. 

Charlie’s eyes widened. She turned her head, ear to the door as she heard what could only be Angel Dust struggling against the moth lord’s grip. 

“No! Th-that’s not what I’m tryin’ to do, I- No!” Angel pleaded before being thrown again, this time far closer to the door. 

Charlie’s hand instinctively went to her mouth, eyes beginning to well up with tears as the reality set in. 

“You know she can’t do anything. I own you.” Val continued. “Or did you forget that?” 

“… No.” Angel stared at the golden scroll before him, his own name flashing callously before him. He couldn’t work up the energy to struggle against the magenta chains wrapped around his neck.

Behind him, Valentino opened up his maw, ready to spew more - smoke or commands, Angel Dust didn’t know. 

He’d never know, in fact. The dressing room door had slammed open before Val could continue, and in the doorway a seething blonde princess huffed and puffed. 

Charlie’s naturally yellow scelera had changed to a crimson hue. Two sharp masses parallel with those murderous eyes began to grow from the crown of her head. Her black nails now resembled claws, long and sharp enough to dig into the dressing room door until she was clutching a handful of splinters. 

Her pinpoint pupils were scanning the room so quickly it was as if they weren’t even visible before they locked in on the image of Angel Dust on his knees. 

Her sharp intake of breath seemed to somehow steal all the air from Angel’s own lungs. 

She saw it. She saw the black eye, the chain around his throat that Valentino hadn’t yet had time to dissipate. Charlie could see his battered body forced into submission in a way he’d never wanted.

“What. The. Fuck.” The naturally perky voice that he’d grown so accustomed had lowered to an almost unrecognizable register. It seemed to double until her voice was layered in both high and low pitch, unnatural and ominous. 

Angel Dust stared up at her, fur standing on end. 

“Princesa!” Valentino greeted, chains slackening as he once again put on an act. “What seems to be the problem -”

In an instant, Val was robbed of words as he was thrown back into the wall. Various objects went flying with him, including Angel’s wardrobe rack and various pink and purple gift boxes. The vanity’s mirror cracked down the center, bulbs in its heart-shaped frame exploding with the force of the princess’s rage while the drawers shot out and knick-knacks tumbled to the shag carpet below. 

Angel reacted instinctively, ducking from the glass with his arms curled protectively over his face. He felt more than saw Charlie stomping past him.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?!” Charlie’s voice had switched from low to shrill fast enough to give one whiplash. “Who are you to treat him like this?!”

Valentino slumped over and out of the Val-shaped hole in the wall, disoriented to where he couldn’t keep the stunned expression off his face. 

It was replaced by one of outrage and vitriol a second later as pink slime dribbled from his bare fangs. “Aieeee, who the fuck do you think you are to come in here and tell me how to run my business? Pequeña perra… ” 

Angel Dust flinched at the harsh sound of a slap, horror causing a tingle in his legs and fuzziness in his head. The rush of blood as he snapped up to look behind him hurt, but the image of Charlie being struck to the ground propelled him in a way little else could.

“Charlie!” Angel’s voice cracked in his panic, pushing himself to stand despite the numbness in his arms. 

The unmistakable sound of tearing flesh made Angel want to throw up, to run as fast he could out of that room and never look back. He couldn’t bear it, the very thought of Charlie - sweet, well-meaning, pain-in-the-ass Charlie - with eyes that watched him so softly and fondly - Charlie, being hurt by Val. 

Angel wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he just cowered in the corner and left her to be mauled. When he finally stood up on shaking legs, the spider demon took a step in their direction. 

He took another step, and another, trying to find his way blindly as red and black distorted his vision. A searing-hot hand stopped him in his tracks, laid against his chest in warning and jarring his senses back into place. 

Angel Dust blinked rapidly until he realized what he was actually seeing. 

On the ground in front of him, Valentino was splayed haphazardly. The overlong coat that covered his torso was stained with red and frayed all over, as if a swarm had moth-eaten his finest frills. His hat was gone, antennae crushed and matted to the floor. The shades he’d usually don on his smarmy face were broken into several pieces and stuck out of his unnaturally bright eyes.

Val’s fangs were still visible, but now cut down and cracked as he gasped for air. His mouth was round into an ‘o’ shape, not from pleasure but instead a silent scream as he convulsed on the ground. 

Heart still racing, Angel felt as if he’d left his own body with the dazed realization that the overlord was missing limbs. Two of his arms had been torn clean off and thrown, leaving streaks of blood against the ground 

Charlie surveyed the damage with Angel, breathing heavy. Her aura was still pulsing with rage and malice so potent that Angel felt both repulsed and compelled by it, as if he were being sucked into a black hole while kicking and screaming. 

Charlie bent at the waist, reaching out to pluck Valentino by the antenna. The pimp seized and his mouth worked, contorting into words he couldn’t vocalize as he was pulled eye to eye with the princess of Hell. 

The hate in her blood-red gaze was mesmerizing, the only thing Valentino could focus on as his senses began failing him. To look into Charlie’s eyes was to look into the face of madness in that moment. The overlord felt as if his insides were being slowly pulled apart, flesh splitting at unknown seems that made the pain of having his limbs ripped off pale in comparison. 

He couldn’t look away. 

“If I ever see you again, this - ” Charlotte yanked until the skin and tendons of the moth’s throat began to rip open, “is going to be the rest of your eternity.”

Valentino’s head popped off with a wet snap.

[nenoname]

hunting down a specific image but finding miscellaneous storyboards/some cut panels from the stan comic story instead

[ariiadnes]

ㅤ╭ ⿻ ･ of ghosts & coincidences

-ˋ ♡ ◞ simon riley. call of duty. a family fic with simon riley ? real and not delusional at all

simon riley doesn't like public spaces-- too crowded, yet somehow too open all the same. unpredictable. it leaves you too vulnerable, leaves you dead center in the hands of danger. how deeply it keeps him on edge, jaw clenched, gaze hardened towards everyone except you. never you.

he's used to staying by your side, soldier turned shadow-- silent. observing. always looking for a means of escape in a moment's notice, should the need ever arise.

has he learned to lower his guard over the years? no, not in the slightest sense. quite the opposite, he thinks, and he'll admit it in a heartbeat.

things have changed. more to take care of, more to protect. now, you've got a little one-- she's the spitting image of him, as difficult as that is for him to comprehend at times. she's very much entirely the opposite of him in terms of personality : shy, reserved in every sense. he doesn't quite get it, doesn't quite feel like he knows how to be a dad, but time after time these past two years, you've always told him otherwise.

he can't help but dwell-- it's only for a second, but the thought is disrupted by a weak squeeze of his hand. he looks down, greeted by curious eyes that look so damn similar to his, and instinctively, his gaze softens. he reciprocates the gesture-- a silent comfort to his daughter as she crinkles her nose in response, a timid smile on her face.

yes, things have changed. him, his protectiveness. his kindness.

ー the only thing that hasn't changed? his distaste for shopping trips, as mundane as they may be at times. but mundane is good; mundane is safe-- although he wouldn't describe this particular trip as such. not necessarily, and for a few good reasons :

one : you've gone entirely off course with the shopping list. he has no idea how you've all been here for an hour when the list had three items ( you also grabbed those items within the first ten minutes of arrival, by the way ). so while he's not really sure what you're buying, he's also very much okay with staying in his lane and not questioning it.

two : it's... july, isn't it? he stares blankly at the shelves before him.

it is july. there are halloween items on display. he shouldn't care much about it, and he doesn't, not at all, until--

three : until the little kiddo lets go of his hand, eyes wide and absolutely mesmerized at the sight of the outrageously out-of-season decor. her gaze shifts as she looks up at him, bottom lip jutting out the tiniest little bit.

christ. he can see it from a mile away-- that subtle hint of puppy eyes that she seemed to inherit from you ( and was purposely taught by johnny. damn bastard ).

"...go on." he tells her, and so she gingerly explores the aisle, never daring to stray too far from either of you, though you're only a few feet away at the most.

you stand side by side, watching her diligently inspect each item on the shelves. it's sudden-- the way she halts in her steps, that soft gasp just barely heard before her little hands reach for something. you can't quite make out what it is, nor have you seen her move that quickly before-- not even when she rushes into your bedroom during a loud thunderstorm. she clutches onto it for dear life, hugging it tightly to her chest before she runs back to you and simon.

"look!" she beams brightly, proudly holding up...a toy?

okay. cool. you tilt your head slightly. a white blob...shape. thing. whatever. okay. but then she actually turns it around, and ah-- it has a face.

oh. a ghost. a cute, little ghost plushie.

dead silence.

you purse your lips tightly, desperately trying to force back a smile ( and failing ) as you look down at your shoes, suddenly immensely interested in them. you clear your throat, albeit a little dramatically before making eye contact with him, and though anyone else would see a lack of emotion in those eyes, you can see both resignation and confusion in them. it's a moment of silent communication between you two with many, many unspoken questions.

because you have never referred to him as 'ghost', nor have either of you talked about his military service in front of her before. for the sake of everyone's safety, that's a conversation for later down the road. the less she knows, the better.

ー so he doesn't know if this is some strange coincidence or not, because how the hell does his two year old daughter with no prior history of liking anything even remotely related to halloween suddenly get attached to a ghost plush? either way, he's got a headache now.

you focus on your daughter, amusement still very much on your visage.

"whatcha got there, baby?"

you're not sure what answer to expect. you're not sure what to expect at all from this situation, truthfully. her brows furrow as she puts deep consideration into her answer.

"...ghostie."

you almost wonder if this is a fever dream. if this was a television show, you would imagine they'd put crickets chirping in the background. you can feel simon's soul shrivel up and wither away.

"...fucking hell." he mumbles, and you can't help but laugh, gently ruffling her hair.

( yes, you do take ghostie home. no, simon doesn't understand the attachment. and yes, maybe he does take a little bit of pride in knowing that somehow, she was instinctively drawn to something that represents her dad. even if it is a... cute ghost plushie.

he'll make do, he supposes. he'll make do. )

[dontfindmeimscared]

i wasn't lying, these two are stuck in my damn head.

redraw of this from like a year ago

[non-un-topo]

To the next adventure...

Image description and details under cut

I.D.

[A drawing of Nicky, Joe, Quynh, and Andy from The Old Guard. They are all in profile, walking in a straight line facing the sun. They are dressed in medieval clothing and armour, and each carry their own weapons and bags. Nicky has his sword, a crossbow, a quiver of bolts, a dagger at his belt and another strapped to his ankle. Joe is holding his sword, a bag, and a coin purse. Quynh's bow is over her back, and her quiver is at her hip. Two daggers are strapped to her belt, one of them matching Nicky's. Andy is holding her axe, two bags, and a dagger. They each have serene expressions and closed eyes, as if they're not in a hurry. In the background, the seasons change from winter to spring, summer, fall. There is an old tree behind them, and its branches change with the seasons.]

[pawubits]

ok guys dont freak out but. grian fanart.

I DID SAY THIS WAS AN MCYT BLOG,,,OKAY,,

(btw this is fanart for a fic called "Healing Is a Four Letter Word" made by Hypno_cat over on ao3!)

[anistarrose]

yes, my favorite line in all of TAZ does continue to be Barry's "I would feel guilty living in a world that I... poisoned." even on top of the fact that he's talking to Taako. even that it's pre-Glamour Springs. it's the way Barry spends his ten years alone in a downward spiral over the "poison" on his hands, completely in parallel to how Taako does. maybe not even realizing they're the same. you know voidfished Taako certainly doesn't realize.

relatedly, I think a lot about how Barry is the most obviously genre-dissonant character in early Balance. how obviously he doesn't belong. how everyone has their eccentricities, but with Barry there's always the — at the time — comedy, of reactions like "get out of here, you can't have a fantasy character who revolves around blue jeans!" but the thing is, Barry isn't any more alien to that world than Magnus or Merle or Taako is. he's just the one who allowed himself the least opportunities to know or interact with that world.

and I think he would've lagged behind THB in that regard even if the Voidfishing hadn't happened. not only does he hold even more guilt than them for half-inventing the Relic plan, he was charged by the judges with the "sin" of isolating himself on his home plane — yearning for connection with the world, but depriving himself of it. when Barry is crushed with more guilt than he's ever felt before in his life, what does he do? fall back into old habits.

[sunnymainecoon]

Horror's silly I guess..... idk sometimes I just want him to slam people idk

Sighs the man's a little angy don't judge him... Jesus he's ugly

[cable-salamdr]

Need to write a fic on what Zane did immediately right after Dr. Julien turned off his memory switch and he “awoke” again. Imagine waking up in this place that you do not recognise and you turn around and there’s a guy in the bed behind you who seems to be dead and oh god you realise you can’t remember anything at all from your life. What else is there to do but to run away?

[pokemon-radical-red]

I hate it when I headcanon a character who’s canonically a girl as a trans man and make ships of him and a character who’s canonically a guy and I refer to it as a gay/mlm/guyxguy/whatever ship and someone gets mad. Like omg let trans people have FUNNNNN. Why are queer headcanons and genderbends cool until they’re saying that the character is trans???

“OMGGG you’re so misogynistic I can’t believe you would erase FEMALE representation!!!”

and like half of the characters in the franchise are women, and a total of… NONE of the characters are trans men. Also, my headcanon doesn’t change the source material. If my stuff upsets you, you can block me and go engage with the source or maybe every single other fanwork, since mine is the only trans man hc for this character that I’ve ever seen.

or when people are like “WTF??? this is so transphobic!!! how dare you imply that a character who looks like that could be a trans man?!?! do you think that trans men are women or something??? she uses she/her, and you’re misgendering her!”

No, I don’t think that being a trans man makes you a woman or vice versa. That’s why it’s a headcanon, and the headcanon is that this character is actually a trans man and not a woman at all! You’ll never guess what pronouns most trans men had to use at some point in their lives, and you really won’t like it when you find out about pre-(or no-)transition trans men… or trans men who are in the closet… or trans men who don’t know that they’re trans yet.

“But the character is a kid!!! Saying they’re trans is sexualizing them.”

I’ve seen this one from other queer people. Like did you miss when all of the homophobes said this about your identity, or do you think that bigotry is only bad when it’s directed at you?

“Why would you say ‘testosterone could fix her’??? Are you trying to call her a delusional woman?”

Why would your brain even go to that first? This literally has to be a bad faith reading, because there’s no way that someone could see what I said and get this unless they were specifically looking for something to be mad at me for.

(Note for anyone unaware: “Estrogen would’ve fixed him!” was a meme going around at the time I said this. I’m not sure if it’s still super big, but this was a joke to the effect of that.)

“So girls can’t be tomboys anymore? You just wanna trans everyone?”

This is like actual real life transphobic rhetoric. This isn’t even just shitting on my headcanon, but in fact, sending transphobic hate to a trans man. Thanks 👍. Maybe you should go send JK Rowling another message about how much you loved her essay instead of bothering me.

[rafyki]

(Lil snippet of the Goth!Nico/Surfer!Percy fic inspired by the beautiful amazing incredible art by @neo-kid-funk !! It's definitely going to be much longer, but I hope you enjoy this for now!!)

(under read more bc it's more than 1k words lol)

~~~

“He's here again”.

Jason didn't even turn around to see what Nico was referring to with those words - at that point it was such a common occurrence that it wasn't really necessary. Still, Nico felt a little offended at his friends' dismissal.

“Jason”, he said, almost in a whine. “He's here again”.

Now finally (though with a smile and a roll of his eyes) Jason did turn around to look at the current source of all of Nico's troubles and the main character of many of his dreams.

Dark hair, tall, all tan skin and toned muscles, swim trunks hanging way too low on his hips - all in all, the most handsome man Nico had ever seen, and he couldn't keep his eyes off him.

Nico looked at him coming out of the water holding onto his surfing board as if it weighted nothing (and Nico knew that wasn't true, he had almost collapsed under the weight of one once), a hand going up to card through his wet hair plastered to his forehead. He looked so beautiful and at home in the water Nico couldn't help but feel like he was some sort of sea god.

He was too far away to see it now, but he knew that even his eyes were the color of the sea.

What is he even so hot for?

As ridiculous as it sounded, Nico could feel himself blush just looking at him. Yet there was something (everything really) about him that was so magnetic it made it impossible to tear his eyes away - really, at this point Nico spent most of his shifts at the beach kiosk looking at him; he wasn't sure if it was a blessing or a curse that that man came to the beach so often.

Percy.

He only knew the name because he had heard a girl calling him (was that his girlfriend? God, Nico really hoped she wasn't), and obviously not because he had had the courage of talking to him outside of the small exchanges whenever Percy came to buy something.

He kept following him with his eyes, teeth absentmindedly biting his lips, playing with the rings there.

He was so busy thinking and trying to stare without making it too obvious that he almost missed it when Jason said: “Looks like he's coming here”.

Nico jumped out of his skin. “What!? No, Jason, please please, you take his order, please”.

Another roll of his eyes and another fond smile that Nico had seen all too many times. “Nico”, Jason said. “It's your chance. Talk to him!”

Nico shook his head vehemently. He could already feel his heart starting to pound in his chest and his cheeks grow hot. “No way. He's going to smile at me! I'm a weak man Jason, don't do this to me”.

An obnoxious laugh reminded Nico that Leo was there too - he was so caught up in thinking about Percy that he had completely forgotten about him; but of course there he was, sprawled on the counter as if he belonged there (and with how much time he spent there even without working with them, it might as well have been). “Goth-boy, you're on a beach wearing a black t-shirt under the august scorching sun - you're anything but weak, man, you can do it”.

“Oh shut up Leo, we all know you're no better than me - remind me how long it took you to talk to Jason?”, Nico shot back.

He wasn't looking at his friends though, his eyes still drawn to where Percy was - and yes, Jason was right and he was definitely coming there.

Nico's heart was beating absurdly fast; it really was ridiculous how much he liked a boy he barely knew. But he did - oh god, he really did. Percy was handsome and bright and had the most beautiful smile Nico had ever seen.

And Nico was just a boy who looked very out of place on a beach.

Still playing nervously with his lip rings, he took off his hair tie and fixed his ponytail. Did his hair look good? He hoped so at least.

What did Percy think about him? Did he even have an opinion on him? Or was he just the weird kid working at the kiosk? Probably.

“Don't deflect Nico, Leo is right”, Jason said, cutting through his line of thought. “And don't worry you look good”.

“As cute and charming as always, man!”, Leo added, and maybe from someone who didn't know him it could have sounded teasing but at this point Nico knew him well enough to recognize the honesty in his smile as he did a thumbs up to show his support. “Just smile and he'll fall for you in a second”.

Nico scoffed at that, but appreciated the sentiment.

It was probably too much hoping that Percy would even look his way, let alone anything more than that.

Jason nudged his shoulder, once again taking him away from his thoughts. “Really, you're all good”, he said. “Now get ready to take his order”.

The next second, Nico found himself staring into a pair of sea-green eyes so deep and mesmerizing he was sure he was drowning in them, could almost feel the water filling up his lungs; and if that wasn't enough, a smile so bright it could rival the sun came with them, effectively cutting off the last bit of breath. Oh it was so unfair.

And he wasn't wearing a shirt - of course he wasn't, they were on a beach and he had just come out of the water five minutes ago. His tanned skin seemed to shine under the sun, water was still dripping from his hair and Nico had to use all of his willpower to not follow with his eyes the little droplets' way down his neck and collarbone.

It was more than unfair, and it was definitely a curse.

“Hi, can I get you anything?”

Thank god he was so used to his job that he could sound natural enough saying that even while panicking on the inside.

Even without looking at them, Nico could feel his friends almost laughing at him; he would have been offended if he weren’t so busy trying to survive the moment. Percy really was way too handsome and hot for Nico’s sanity.

Don’t stare at him, he berated himself, it’s not polite to stare at customers. He’ll think you’re weird.

Oh god, he needed a smoke as soon as possible. If he kept biting on his lip like that he would end up biting his lip ring away.

“Huh”, Percy seemed to think about it for a second. “Can I have the same blue drink from last time? You remember?”

Nico did remember. It had been the longest conversation he had ever had with Percy (the longest and most intense five minutes of his life until now), with the surfer asking for some kind of blue drink, and Nico trying his best to understand and make it for him - he had managed to, in the end, and then had proceeded to think non stop for days about the happy smile Percy had gifted him.

For some reason, the way Percy said “you remember?” made Nico’s insides melt, a swarm of frantic screaming butterflies flying in chaos in his stomach. Like it was something between the two of them, something they shared.

Nico had never felt more ridiculous in his life.

“Yeah, I remember”, he managed to say, and in a way it was a relief to turn around and get to work. Part of him wanted to drag it out as long as possible just to make Percy stay a little longer; at the same time, though, part of him wanted this to be over as soon as possible just so he could finally go back to breathing.

“Great!”, Percy said with a smile, like Nico had just told him the best news of the day.

It was such a peculiar request, “can i get a blue drink” - no flavor or anything, just a blue drink. It was weird and endearing at the same time, and it left Nico wanting to know more about it, more about Percy. He wondered how many other weird and endearing things like that Percy did.

“You like it that much?”, he found himself asking, his mouth moving before his brain even registered it.

Another blinding smile. Nico was so weak.

“Everything tastes better if it’s blue”, Percy said with such conviction that he almost made it sound like that made any sense.

It made Nico stop, and then he couldn’t help the short laugh that escaped his lips.

“Does it?”, he asked, smiling back, as he handed Percy his drink.

Percy nodded. “Of course. You should try it sometimes”.

The butterflies were going absolutely crazy in Nico’s stomach, so much he almost forgot to take the money Percy was giving him. “Maybe I will”, he said.

“Thanks for the drink, Nico”.

For an instant, Nico’s brain went blank except for a mantra of he knows my name, oh god he knows my name. Then he remembered he was wearing a nametag, so of course he did.

Idiot.

“Have a nice day”, he said through the lump in his throat.

“You too!”, Percy said and went to leave. He seemed to think back on it though, because he turned toward Nico again, holding out his right hand to him. “I’m Percy, by the way”.

It felt like looking at himself from the outside, like it was happening to someone else, as Nico shook his hand. It was warm and big, and Nico wanted to hold onto it. “Nice to meet you”.

Percy smiled, big and bright and happy, and Nico smiled back.

“See you next time, Nico”.

Nico stared at him as he left and went back to his friends, pretty sure everything that had just happened must have been a dream.

[nmoroder]

"How long have you stayed inside this room?"

a small illustration for this fic which is sadly published anonymously. i just want the author to know, if they see this post, that i liked your work immensely and there's a sad lack of Adam-centered stories and i was so happy to read through your work. my sanity had been restored that evening

[angel-mira]

cutest spotter ever <3

[queermarzipan]

i can't fucking believe this i can't fucking believe this why did no one tell me david was on a show with a STREET HYPNOTIST and got HYPNOTISED are you KIDDING ME I'M SURPRISED I SURVIVED THIS

not to fucking mention. the fucking time travel seeing the future shit. like i already sort of thought the fourth dimension might be more fluid to us than we think but oh my days. wow.

[onebizarrekai]

I've been going back and forth trying to decide whether I want to make the old ibvs oneshots be available on ao3 but every time I look at them I go into a state of shock at how… absolutely teenager they are

also this

[gomzdrawfr]

me, staring at my shelf then at my google doc:

"would it be weird if Price owns like, a volkswagen type 2 truck and use that to bring em to fishing..."